Good Troll Hunting
by Jay of Lasgalen
Summary: Following an action-packed troll hunt, Legolas finally returns home. ** Chapter 10 - Homecoming: The misunderstanding deepens.**
1. The Ford

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Good Troll Hunting

This story continues directly from 'Mission To Dol Guldur'. Although you don't need to have read it, several events from that story are referred to, so it does help. And don't forget, PLEASE REVIEW!!!!

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Chapter 1 - The Ford

It was a week later before Legolas was able to travel to Rivendell to see Elladan's trolls. He had seen Eléntia's brother again, and Math'rin's and Elthan's wives, and had made a complete report to both his father and Mithrandir. Pavisel, too, was restless and eager to be active again.

Leaving Mirkwood in the capable hands of Alfiel and Tirnan, Legolas left early the next morning. He rode along the little-used old elf path, which Bilbo and his companions had travelled ten years before, and which Aragorn had used nearly three weeks previously. Bilbo had found the forest very eerie, but did not understand it the way he did. This was one of the oldest parts of Mirkwood, and the trees grew close together. The path he rode had a musty feel, a claustrophobic atmosphere. To either side of the path webs could be seen, the strands thick as ropes. Occasionally the branches shook, as if something heavy lurked there. The light was dim, but his eyes soon became accustomed to it. Far off into the trees thick cobwebs hung and the spiders lurked there, but the path itself was kept clear by the power of the elves. Black squirrels danced among the branches. They were as playful as their red cousins, but more wary – they were often hunted by the handful of men who lived along the western borders, who feared them.

Towards the end of the first day, Legolas came to a river that ran across his path. It flowed swiftly to the north, and the water appeared dark, almost black, in the dim light. This was the Enchanted River, that brought deep sleep to any who touched its waters. Since Bilbo and the Dwarves had travelled the path ten years before, a bridge had been built, a simple affair of two planks laid side by side across the water. It was wide enough for Pavisel to cross with ease, and he was thankful that his people were no longer so insular with the departure of the shadow, and prepared for travellers to come to their realm. 

That first night, Legolas rode as long as he could, until it was too dark to see the track before him. He could not light a fire along this path, the flamelight would call forth creatures of the forest who would watch, unseen apart from the reflection in their eyes. Also, there were giant moths, attracted by the firelight, which would incinerate themselves in the flames, filling the air with the stench of their burning wings.

Although the moon must be nearly full, Legolas could see nothing. He halted, ate a brief meal, and slept fitfully for a few hours. As soon as dawn broke, and he could see a dim grey glimmer about him, he set off again. The next day seemed even longer. The darkness of the forest to the left and right of him seemed even thicker, cobwebs festooned the trees, and once or twice he glimpsed the scuttle of a thick, hairy leg disappearing. But the path itself remained clear. At last he reached the eaves of the forest. 

At the western edge, as Legolas came into clear air again, he breathed a sigh of relief. Being under trees was one thing, but as well, he needed to feel the breeze and the light of the sun and stars. He continued westward across meadowlands until he reached the River Anduin. He came to the banks of the great river just after nightfall, so halted Pavisel and they rested. There was no moon but stars sprinkled the night. Resting beneath the open sky he felt refreshed, and had no need of sleep. So far, the journey had been uneventful, but away to the north he sensed the weather was changing. It looked like he was due for some heavy rain.

The next day Legolas headed south along the river. The edge of the rainstorm caught him, and before long he was soaked. They rode through a downpour. Cold, wet, miserable, he and Pavisel plodded along. The ground was too soft to gallop, so they made slow progress. By nightfall he was drenched. By using dry wood, which he carried for chances such as this, he made a small fire. There was no sign of life in that vast, empty land, and there would be nothing foolish enough to be out watching him. At dawn he continued south again towards the ford. It was still raining. Pavisel's mane and tail were sodden, his legs and golden skin splashed with mud. By midday they reached the ford. Deep at the best of times, now the crossing stones were covered by a raging torrent of water rushing down from the Ered Mithrin. Legolas halted in dismay. To go south to the next pass, Caradhras, would add four weeks to his journey. He could wait for the river to subside, but away to the north the sky was still dark with rain. In the end he gave a deep sigh. There was nothing for it but to take their chances and cross – with the rain that had been falling, it would only get worse.

The crossing stones were invisible beneath the water, so they would have to walk across, rather than ride. Legolas slid down from Pavisel, removed the pack strapped to his own back, securely tied the baggage together, and fastened it to Pavisel. When all was ready, he led Pavisel cautiously into the water. The chill made him gasp. Straight from the mountains, the water was far colder than he had expected for this time of year, and the force of the current was strong. By the time he was waist deep, he could barely keep his feet, and moved to Pavisel's right, where the river pressed him against the horse's side. He knew the crossing well, having been this way many times in the past, but it had never been this difficult or dangerous. They were about halfway across the ford when Pavisel slipped. 

To compensate for the constant pressure of the water trying to force them off the crossing, Legolas and Pavisel had been angling to the right - but had gone too far, off the crossing stones. Suddenly they were in much deeper water. The torrent was over his head, and Legolas could not touch the river bottom. His left hand still gripped Pavisel's mane, and he was able to pull himself up, gasping for breath. Hauling the horse sideways, suddenly he felt the crossing beneath his feet again. Not caring how hard he pulled at Pavisel's mane, he tugged until the horse's hooves found some purchase on the stones, and he was able to stand again, trembling. Moving even more cautiously now, making sure they were securely on the crossing, they edged forward. 

Suddenly his foot, probing beneath the water for the next clapper stone, felt nothing. The stone had been washed away in the flood, and there was nothing there. Pavisel shied, uncharacteristically, and Legolas found himself slipping on the wet, slick stones. There was a surge of water, and he lost his footing completely. Plunging forward, he lost his grip on Pavisel, and was washed helplessly downstream.

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Author's Notes: I imagine the ford to be a 'clapper' bridge, common on Dartmoor near where I live in Devon, in South West England. It consists of flat slabs of stone (the 'clappers' ), supported on pillars of granite. The pillars are set into the river bed. Although massive, and very heavy, it is possible for the stone slabs to be washed away in floods - I've seen it happen. It is a very ancient type of bridge, and could easily be built in Middle Earth.

My previous story, 'To The Ends Of Middle Earth' has now been posted on Cassia's Mellon Chronicles, together with a _brilliant_ picture. Thanks, Cassia!!


	2. Imladris

Legolas had no idea how far he was carried by the torrent. He was dragged under the water, tossed and turned by the flood, whirling along like flotsam. At length he was able to kick to the surface, gasping for air. Unable to see for more than a few yards upstream or downstream, he struck out towards the western shore on his right, as the current carried him ever further from the ford. At last he was close enough to grip the reeds that grew thickly by the edge of the river, and pulled himself into shallower, calmer water, and then to the bank. On hands and knees, he coughed painfully against the water in his lungs, then lay on the riverbank, heart pounding. As the burning pain in his chest subsided, he sat up and took stock of the situation. He was unharmed apart from scrapes and bruises, though his hands were cut from the sharp edges of the reeds, but was soaked, chilled, and exhausted. He still had the knife on his belt, his quiver - which amazingly still had a few arrows in it - but his bow was missing.

His best course of action was to find what had happened to Pavisel. Even if the horse had not survived, he might be able to salvage the packs Pavisel had carried. First, though, he stripped off his outer clothes down to the thin under-tunic. That would dry quickly, and be less hampering than the wet things. 

At length Legolas started back towards the ford. He kept close to the water's edge, looking, watching, for any sign of Pavisel, the baggage, or his bow. Dusk was falling, and he was stumbling with weariness when he glimpsed something lying half submerged, entangled in the reeds by a curve in the river. Carefully he waded, knee-deep, into the water to retrieve it - a long, curved piece of wood, carved into intricate designs, supple and flexible. It was his bow. Breathing a prayer of thanksgiving he inspected it. It was clogged with mud, the string was broken, but it was intact. Back on the bank, he pondered what to do next. As night fell, it would become more and more difficult to see anything washed up by the river, and he could easily miss something important. Besides which, he was more tired than he had been in a long time, even after the return from Dol Guldur. Reluctantly, he decided to stop overnight and wait until daybreak before continuing.

From the reed bed he was able to gather several dead, hollow stems, and many dry leaves, together with clumps of driftwood washed up by previous floods. The debris underneath was relatively dry, so he set about building a small fire. His outer clothing was by now fairly dry, and he sat by the fire, eating the dried fruit and nuts from his emergency rations, feeling more at ease than he had expected. He did not dare to sleep, but sat upright, feeding the flames, drifting lightly into a doze.

A slight sound in the distance brought Legolas fully awake. He kept low, peering into the night, trying to identify the noise. It came again, a soft thud, together with the breathing of a large animal. Not quite daring to believe his luck, he called, the shrill sound of tawny owl. There was an answering snort, and the thudding came closer, sounding irregular. He stood, waiting. Pavisel walked into the circle of firelight, hobbling slightly, and stopped by Legolas. One of the packs which had been strapped to his back had slipped down, and hung under him like a misplaced pregnancy. He quickly undid the straps and removed the pack, allowing Pavisel to move more freely. Carefully he checked for injuries, but Pavisel seemed to have escaped as lightly as he had himself. 

He leaned against the horse's neck, revelling in the warmth and familiar smell. He was not sure how long he stood there, murmuring softly, while Pavisel blew warm, grass-scented breath at him. At last he moved, and sat by the fire again, checking the contents of the pack. There was a cloak, a thick wolf skin rug - a gift for Elrond - and half of the food he had carried. His spare clothing and the rest of the food had been in the other pack, but it was enough. Spreading the rug on the ground, he wrapped himself in the cloak and slept - trusting in his own instincts and Pavisel's senses to warn if danger approached.

Shortly before dawn Legolas awoke and stretched. The fire had died, but it was not totally dark - the clouds had cleared and the sky was lightening. Pavisel was nearby, grazing contentedly. When he had repacked the baggage, he and Pavisel rode to the north, towards the ford. From this higher vantage point Legolas could see more of the river. The water level had not dropped, and continued to roar south to the Gladden Fields. Some way downstream he could see the other pack, but it was on the far side of the Anduin. He left it there, and rode on. By midday they had come back to the ford - the near disaster had only cost him one day. With only half the supplies, the week-long journey would not be comfortable, but Rivendell was at the end.

After two days of uneventful travel, they reached the foothills of the Misty Mountains. A further day brought them near the High Pass, which led over the mountains and down into Eriador. It was cold at this altitude, but he did not dare light a fire at night in case it attracted the attention of any wandering orcs. As they crested the pass Legolas paused and looked back the way they had come. He could see the line of the Anduin, and beyond that, away to the east, the dark smudge of Mirkwood stretched to north and south as far as he could see. The Mountains of Mirkwood marched in a line away from him, and beyond them lay his home. Far to the south he thought he could see a darker shadow on the forest which marked Dol Guldur, but perhaps that was only imagination.

He turned to face forward. To the west lay a green country of rivers and hills, gentler looking than the land behind him. Somewhere below, hidden from sight, lay the valley sheltering Rivendell, and journey's end.

As they descended once again the air became warmer. The mountains were not so steep on this side, and the going was easier. Legolas rode through resin-scented pine trees, needles creating a soft carpet on the ground that muffled Pavisel's hooves. At length the land levelled. Ahead lay a high, windswept moorland, purpled with heather, and gilded gold with gorse. As he finally approached the hidden valley where Rivendell lay, he became aware that he was being watched. He could not see the concealed sentinels that guarded Imladris, but could sense them following his trail, watching his every move. 

Suddenly a figure dropped out of the trees ahead of him, causing Pavisel to start and give a snort. Simultaneously two elves materialised out of the forest on either side of the track, arrows drawn and pointed at him. Legolas froze. "Ellahir! Is this the way you normally greet invited guests?"

The two guards, on hearing the unfamiliar name, drew back on their bowstrings. Elladan stepped forward and pushed both bows down, with a soft word of reassurance. He looked up at Legolas. "We can never be too careful when a traveller comes down out of the mountains. Especially one who appears not to know the names of the sons of Elrond." He grinned. "It's good to see you again, Leg'as." He turned to the archers. "Go back to your duties. It's all right, this is the son of Thranduil of Mirkwood." Looking a little confused, they turned and disappeared back into the trees.

Elladan gave a soft whistle, and a tall, grey horse moved forward out of the trees. He jumped lightly onto its back, and together he and Legolas rode down into the valley of Rivendell. As they dropped lower, Legolas found himself remembering the sights, sounds and smells of Imladris. The glimpses, far below, seen through the slightly misty valley, of Elrond's halls, formed of living wood and stone. The rush and babble of the Bruinen, the roar of the water as it fell over rocks, into deep and mysterious pools. The scent of the trees, of damp earth, and of wet, mossy stones. He inhaled deeply and gave a sigh. "It's good to be back. It seems a long time since I was last here. Tell me, did Aragorn arrive safely?"

"About three weeks ago. He told me he'd met you at Lasgalen, I didn't realise you were there. That was why I sent you the message."

"Trolls? How bad is it?"

"The worst we've ever had. Mithrandir got rid of the last ones, about ten years ago, but they keep coming down from the mountains." Elladan sighed, shaking his head.

"Were they the same ones Elrohir and I tried to go after?"

"Havens, no. They don't live that long. They weren't too bad, just took the occasional wild pony or goat, but there are five this time, and much more cunning and dangerous than usual. They discovered travellers are easier prey, and often attack people riding alone or even in pairs. Most have escaped, but they killed two messengers from Bree last month."

Legolas pondered what Elladan had told him. During their conversation they had ridden down through the valley and were now not far from the halls of Imladris. Questions and strategies raced through his mind. "Do you know where they come from?"

"No, we can't find their lair. Even if we do, it's almost impossible to harm a troll!" Elladan sounded frustrated. "They're very strong, and have hides like stone. I know you're experienced in fighting orcs, goblins, spiders - and wolves - so I thought you might have some ideas."

Legolas gave Elladan a sharp look. "You've been talking to Aragorn!"

"He did mention something about an encounter with wolves. Among other things."

"What sort of other things?" asked Legolas suspiciously.

"That you told him you were engaged to Arwen."

"I didn't say that! Not exactly!" protested Legolas indignantly.

"So what did you tell him?" queried Elladan, with a gleam of malice in his expression.

Legolas described the conversation he had had with Aragorn. Elladan gleefully demanded every nuance of his foster brother's reaction. As they rode under the archway that led into Imladris, Elladan said "I don't think he was entirely convinced though, because he asked Arwen about it when he returned here." 

Legolas stopped dead, nudging Pavisel to a halt. "Arwen knows?"

"Yes. I think she said she wants to see you when you arrive."

His eyes closed, lips moving in a succinct, inaudible curse. Arwen had a formidable temper when roused.

A flight of wide, shallow steps led from the courtyard into the entrance hall. Elrond stood at the top, Elrohir at his side. There was no sign of either Arwen or Aragorn. After exchanging warm greetings, Elrond welcomed him to Rivendell, and Elrohir took Legolas to the guest rooms.

"Supper will be in about an hour. Join us in the Hall of Fire when you're ready." As Elrohir turned to leave, Legolas called him back.

"My father was wondering why Elladan thought I would want to go troll hunting. Did you ever tell Elrond about that particular trip?"

Elrohir laughed and shook his head. "I didn't tell him, no. I suspect he guessed, though. There were always some things he said he didn't want to know."

"I'm not surprised. I can't believe we did that, we were lucky they didn't kill us."

"We were young, and foolish. We're both more sensible now."

Legolas, remembering the chase with the wolves he and Aragorn had had, wasn't entirely sure, but agreed, at least aloud, with Elrohir.

After Elrohir had gone, he washed and changed. There was a gentle tap at the door, and then Arwen opened it, walked in, and shut the door behind her. Legolas was surprised to see her in his room, but greeted her warmly. He was a little wary of her reaction to the news of their `betrothal', but had no intention of mentioning it until she did.

"You don't need to worry about me being here. It's quite proper. We are engaged, after all." Her voice had a definite edge to it, and her expression was cold.

Legolas sighed inwardly. She sounded even more annoyed than he had feared. "Arwen, I'm sorry. That wasn't quite what I said, anyway. It was just .... "

She wasn't listening, but interrupted him: "Why, by the Valar, did you have to remember that ridiculous idea of my father's? And why tell Aragorn about it? What other bright ideas have you had?"

"Arwen, I'm sorry," he said again. "I didn't mean to upset either of you. I did explain to him ..... " he stopped again, recalling Aragorn's stunned and shocked expression, his stumbling words, and could not prevent a grin. He tried to hide it from Arwen - it would annoy her even more - but then realised that she was struggling to suppress a smile of her own. He glared at her. "Why am I apologising to you?" he demanded. "You think it's just as funny as the rest of us!"

She was laughing now, abandoning her attempt to scold him. He hugged her, laughing as well. "Arwen, it's wonderful to see you again, it's been far too long. It must be.."

"You came to the last Lórien Council instead of your father. That was about fifty five years ago. I haven't seen you since then."

Arm in arm, exchanging news, they went downstairs together to the Hall of Fire to join the rest of Elrond's household.

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TBC

You need to have read 'To The Ends Of Middle Earth' to understand the Ellahir/Elrodan/Leg'as bit properly. They keep deliberately messing up each other's names.

Many, many thanks to my reviewers:

Treehugger (my most faithful reviewer, the first for this story!) Glad you like my Mirkwood, and the ford/bridge - I thought a description here would help a lot. You'll be glad to note that this chapter ISN'T a cliffhanger (but look out for the next chapter!)

Geriatrics - Great that you like all the stories so far.

oldenufftonobetter - any review, literary criticism or not, is VERY welcome. Thanks!

gemstone: Thanks for your support.

odyssey: I saw your name, and thought 'where have I heard that?' Then I realised I had read (and reviewed) your story last night! You say I have 'real talent' !! Wow! Thanks!! I'm glad you like the descriptions of Mirkwood, I use the books a lot for background detail.

What I do is read Tolkien's description of a place, and build up a picture of it in my mind. Then I describe, in a story, what I can see. So it's not a direct copy of Tolkien's writing, but stays close to his universe. It seems to work!

Wish me luck - I'm off on a school trip to London with around thirty 9, 10, and 11 year old children this weekend. It should be great fun!

Jay


	3. Trolls

Many, many thanks to reviewers - detailed comments at the end - and to every one else who reads this, PLEASE review! I love it!

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Chapter 3 -Trolls

Downstairs, the scouts were just returning. They had searched all day, but found nothing. There was no trace of the troll's lair, no traces of where they went after the latest attack on the travellers from Bree. They returned dispiritedly to report to Elrond.

It was clear new tactics were needed. Searches by day were pointless, there was nothing to be seen.

"They only move at night, so we need to be in position well before. I've been there at night, but haven't seen them, but they could be anywhere on those hills. It's clear we won't find them by chance, so I want several groups to lie in wait all around that area to see if they appear. We'll return night after night, if necessary, trying different areas, until we find them."

Elladan's plans were clear. If the troll's lair was so well hidden, the only chance they had was at night when the trolls would be out and about – and at their most dangerous.

Towards the end of this discussion, Aragorn returned from a patrol to the south of Imladris. Legolas greeted him warmly, surprised at how glad he was to see the ranger again after such a short acquaintance.

During supper Legolas described his journey, and what had happened at the ford. 

"You'll have to warn your messengers, Elrond. When I return, I will send a patrol from Mirkwood to repair the damage. Possibly some of the woodsmen have already seen to it - they use the ford a great deal."

Elrohir shook his head. "You seem to have the luck of the Valar, Legolas. You could have been killed!"

"It certainly explains why you looked so bedraggled when I met you" said Elladan. I should have guessed you'd gone for a swim."

When the meal was over, Aragorn drew Legolas to one side. "You haven't told me how your patrol to Dol Guldur went. Did you find anything down there?"

"It all went badly wrong. Eléntia, Elthan and Math'rin were killed. We found at least two of the Nazgûl there, and the rest of us only just made it back."

Aragorn gazed at him in horror. "Legolas, I'm sorry. I had no idea. What happened?" His voice was filled with compassion. "I'm so sorry" he repeated, recalling the patrol he had ridden south with, their companionship, the herblore he had exchanged with Elthan.

Legolas shook his head. "Not now. I'll tell you another time." He changed the subject. There was a shadow of sadness in his eyes, and Aragorn let the matter drop.

The next evening they left Rivendell. They crossed the Ford of Bruinen and rode up into the hills that surrounded the Trollshaws. There were many outcrops of rock, cracked and fissured, where there could be caves where the trolls might be concealed. Legolas began to appreciate how difficult the terrain was to search, and how easily the trolls could hide. He had only been into the Trollshaws once before, long ago, and that had been at night. Goaded by Elladan, he and Elrohir had crept out of Rivendell, crossed the ford – strictly against Elrond's orders – and up to the wood. The fright he got then had been nothing compared with the fright he got when they had returned to find both Elrond and Thranduil waiting up for them. They talked their way out of it, but were still in a lot of trouble.

The hunting party split up, into groups of two or three, close enough to call to, just in sight, but far enough away to cover as much ground as possible. They settled into position as dusk fell. 

Legolas was with Elrohir, concealed in a low tree. In the distance he could see Elladan and Arwen. Somewhere on his other side, hidden by bushes, were Aragorn and Raffael. The night grew darker, but then the moon rose, hanging low in the sky, a few days off full. The two elves sat back to back on adjacent branches, so they could watch as much of the land as possible. 

All was silent. The night was broken only by the hoot of an owl, the cries of other night birds, and the high pitched cries of bats. It had surprised Legolas when Aragorn had said he was unable to hear the bats. He had not realised before how restricted a mortal's hearing was. They spoke in soft voices. Legolas had not been to Rivendell for many years, and had only seen Elrohir briefly since his arrival, so they had much news to catch up on. 

"Elladan and Aragorn both said something about Mithrandir dealing with the last trolls. What happened?"

Elrohir gave a sudden smile at the memory. "He was coming here with a party of dwarves and a friend of theirs, a queer little fellow called Bilbo. They managed to get themselves caught by the trolls. They were about to be eaten when Mithrandir got the trolls arguing about how to cook them, who to kill first. Every time they reached an agreement, he started them off again! He kept them at it so long, the sun came up and turned all the trolls into stone."

Legolas gave a shout of laughter, but then quickly stifled it. "That must have been the same group of dwarves who came through Mirkwood later. I met some of them after the battle. I remember Bilbo, he seemed a strange little creature - a hobbit, or some such name. I'd never seen one before, but he tried hard to break the siege. Both my father and Thorin were being amazingly stubborn. I wonder what happened to him when he left? I don't suppose I shall ever see another hobbit, but Bilbo seemed very odd."

"He came back through Rivendell on his way home. Mithrandir said the dwarves had upset your father somehow, so he'd thrown them all in the dungeons!"

Legolas laughed at the memory. "It's true, he did. He realised almost immediately that he'd made a mistake, but you know how stubborn he can be - he couldn't back down without seeming to give in to Thorin's demands. If I'd been there, I'd have released them myself, but as it was, this Bilbo freed them somehow. I'm still not sure how he managed it!"

There was silence for a while, punctuated by the quiet night sounds. Elrohir moved slightly, feeling stiff. Legolas' voice came from behind him. "The stone trolls, are they near here?"

"A couple of day's journey away. If we have time, we'll ride up there so I can show you."

"If there's time. We have to catch these first."

The rest of the night passed uneventfully. Gradually the sky lightened as dawn approached. As the sun rose they climbed to their feet, stretching against the stiffness of remaining in the same position all night long. No one had seen any sign of the trolls, but as they rode wearily down to the Road and back towards Imladris they came across a scene of devastation.

A small group of dwarves, travelling from the Ered Luin to Erebor had been attacked. Wary of the trolls, they had moved off the Road and camped by an outcrop of rocks to the south. They had set guards to watch all night, and had not lit any fire that might attract attention. In short, they had done everything they could. Their camp had still been attacked, and three dwarves had been carried off. 

The survivors were shaken, but the shock was giving way to anger. They vented it on the first plausible target – the elves whose realm bordered this area, and who should have done something. As Elladan and Elrohir tried to placate them, and reassure them that Elrond was indeed doing something about the trolls, Legolas kept in the background. His only dealing with dwarves had been ten years previously, at the Battle of Five Armies, and he was curious to see the outcome. In the end the dwarves were offered an escort to Imladris, and shelter for the night.

As they returned to Imladris, Legolas rode with Elladan, Elrohir and Aragorn. "What I don't understand is why we're always behind them. They either strike in a place we thought was safe, or return to an area we've already searched and found no trace of them." Elladan complained. "It seems they know where we are, better than we know where they are."

"We must have searched every cave in these hills over the last few weeks," said Elrohir. "And we still can't find their last den."

"Perhaps they haven't got one" suggested Legolas. "Maybe they move around from one cave to another. That would explain why they keep striking in a different place. Have you got a map that shows where they've been?"

"Yes, of course," replied Elladan. "But there's no pattern in it, it seems random."

"Have you tried plotting it with the dates of attack? See if that shows up anything."

Elladan and Elrohir looked at each other. "Why didn't we think of that?" asked Elladan.

"We don't live in a forest under constant attack from spiders and goblins" said Elrohir.

"Or orcs," added Elladan

"Don't forget the wolves" supplied Aragorn. "Mirkwood is a rather dangerous place. I found that out last month."

The four fell to inventing other dangers that lurked in Mirkwood for the unwary. The list included mist wraiths, tree spirits, banshees, giant frogs, carnivorous plants that could swallow a horse, and flowers that showered unsuspecting travellers with hallucinogenic pollen. After a while Legolas fell silent. He had discovered enough real terrors in Mirkwood without the need to make up more. Aragorn noticed his change in mood and moved Duathnir next to Pavisel.

"Homesick?" he asked, deliberately misunderstanding. "You must miss such a wonderful place. I'm surprised you can bear to leave it!" The tactic worked. Legolas laughed with him, and by the time they reached Imladris his despondency was forgotten.

They rode up into the hills above the Trollshaws again the next evening. This time Legolas was partnered with Aragorn. As they made their way to an outcrop of rocks which would make a good vantage point, Aragorn noticed what seemed to be a deeper patch of shadow at the base of the stones. He stopped and called Legolas back. 

"Look there. Is that a cave? Let's go and look."

They approached the area cautiously. As they drew nearer, the shadow widened and they could see a deep cleft running back into the rock.

"You're right. It is a cave. Have they searched this one? It was only by the way the moonlight fell that you saw it."

"I don't know if they looked here yet. I don't think so - but we should go inside to check. Can you hear anything?"

Legolas paused at the entrance, listening intently. He sniffed the air inside the cave. "There's nothing in there now. But I think they have been, though not recently."

Aragorn seemed excited. "If they aren't there, it should be safe to go inside. Come on!"

Legolas hesitated. "You go. I'll stay here, keep watch in case they come back."

Aragorn kindled a torch and stepped warily into the cave. The flickering light from his torch picked up glints of quartz and mica in the walls. He turned, and could see Legolas silhouetted against the lighter darkness at the entrance. Soon the passage turned and then opened up into a high cave. By the uncertain torchlight he could see bones strewn on the floor, some small enough to be goats, some large enough to be from a horse or pony. Some of the bones looked horribly human. He moved further into the cave and looked around, then jumped and swore. He caught his breath on a note of horror. On a ledge of the cave, roughly at eye level, sat a human skull. It seemed to be looking at him from the empty eye sockets.

Aragorn took a final swift look around the cave. It was clear the trolls had been here, but not for some time, it appeared. As he turned to leave he could hear his name being called, and grateful for an excuse to hurry, went quickly back to the entrance.

Outside, Legolas watched as the glimmer of torchlight faded into the cave. It was ridiculous that he still felt this deep reluctance to venture into a cave. He had never been able to completely conquer the fear. He could force himself if there was no alternative, but would not go in if it could possibly be avoided. The halls of Lasgalen were different. They were known, familiar, well lit and lavishly furnished. Frequent windows were cut, allowing light, air and the sounds of the forest in. 

He called softly. "Aragorn! Can you see anything?" He listened, and could hear the faint sounds of Aragorn's footsteps returning.

Back in the open, Aragorn told him everything he had seen. "They've obviously been there a lot, but not for a long time. At least we know one of their dens now!"

" I think we should plan to keep watch here, for as long as necessary. They may return eventually. It's the best sign we've had of them yet. We'll tell Elladan and Elrohir in the morning."

They continued to the top of the rocks to start the night's vigil. It was a clear, cloudless night, and the hillside was brightly lit from the moon. For a few hours nothing happened and they talked in quiet voices of their journeys from Mirkwood. As Legolas related the tale of his ill-fated attempt to cross the ford, he noticed shadows moving across the hillside below. Simultaneous with his realisation that there were no clouds to create a shadow, he saw smaller shadows, elves, following stealthily. They had finally found the trolls.

As Aragorn and Legolas moved silently down to the others, more groups converged on the hillside. Although the elves moved silently, the trolls suddenly became aware that they had company. With roars and bellows they rounded on those closest with terrifying speed. The elves darted out of range, but then a pitched battle began. The elves had speed and numbers to their advantage, but the trolls were also fast, and had brute strength, and hides impervious to arrows. There were only three trolls, and no sign of the other two. They were armed with heavy clubs which they wielded with deadly force, and even the swing of a fist sent Elladan sprawling breathlessly to the ground. He sat up, dazed, as Elrohir dragged him to safety.

Aragorn and several other elves who fought with swords attacked together. His blade rang dully and bounced off the troll's skin. None of their weapons seemed to have any effect, but the trolls could inflict serious injury if they ever managed to hit anyone. Fortunately the elves were too fast, and only a few minor swipes had made contact.

Suddenly there was a cry. A heavy swing from one of the clubs had struck one of the elves with vicious force, knocking him to the ground. He lay motionless. The troll roared in triumph. Despite his concern, it gave Legolas a sudden idea. Standing directly in front of the troll he fired an arrow straight at its face. The arrow bounced off uselessly, and the troll bellowed at him mockingly. Legolas stood his ground and rapidly fired two arrows into the troll's open mouth. Both arrows lodged deep in its throat. 

For a long moment, nothing seemed to happen, and Legolas felt a bitter disappointment. Then the troll stopped. It coughed, looking almost puzzled, swayed, and with a thunderous crash fell forwards. It did not move. Legolas dodged out of the way just in time, and looked down at the fallen troll with satisfaction. He did not realise that his movement had brought him into the range of one of the other trolls. It had taken a wild swing at Elladan with its club and missed, but the backswing caught Legolas a heavy blow on the side of his head. The impact knocked him off his feet, into the undergrowth at the edge of the clearing. There was a moment of agony as pain crashed through him, and then nothing.

****

TBC

****

Author's Notes: I warned you this would be a cliffhanger!! Legolas had to learn that trick with the cave troll in Moria somewhere, didn't he?

In response to a point made by Odyssey, I've reposted chapter 1 with some minor alterations - you were quite right, I should have noticed that.

Response to reviewers:

gemstone - you'll get plenty of Elladan and Elrohir in this story, plus Aragorn as well. Lots of trouble as well!

Little My - 'beautifully descriptive writing' *sigh* - I _love _hearing things like that. Thanks!

Treehugger - thanks for your lovely long review. I know what you mean about Pavisel - but don't worry, I'm too much of an animal lover to hurt him! I sympathise with Elrond and Thranduil - I know there are things my children have got up to that I _really _don't want to know about! And you're right about 'trouble' - look out for future chapters, and even more in my next story, when Brethil will be making a guest appearance! Thanks for letting him visit.

ccg - there will be more of the twins and Arwen coming soon.

The trip to London was brilliant, really good fun - the kids were fantastic. In two days, we managed to see two shows (The Lion King and Chitty Chitty Bang Bang) and two museums, plus a return journey of 400 miles 'there and back again'. We were all totally exhausted, but it was worth it!


	4. Waiting

****

Chapter 4 - Waiting

Aragorn, off to the left, saw the troll fall. He gave a whoop of elation and shouted to Elrohir. "Did you see that? Aim for its mouth!"

Elrohir nodded. He waited until the troll nearest him roared again then swiftly shot his arrow at it. It worked. The troll tried to swallow, gave a hoarse, harsh bellow, and collapsed. The cheers of the elves enraged the remaining troll. It grabbed at Elrohir, seizing his arm, but seemed to be moving slowly. The hillside was becoming clearer now. Elladan, with a glance at the sky, yelled: "Elrohir, get away from it! Now!"

Elrohir, suddenly understanding, gave a desperate twist and broke free, leaving half his sleeve in the troll's grasp. The first rays of the rising sun filtered across the hillside. The troll gave a bellow of rage and fury that abruptly broke off.

In the growing light the elves could see it, one arm reaching out for Elrohir, a shred of his sleeve forever locked in its grip. "That was close" gasped Elrohir. "Thanks for the warning!" He looked around the hillside, at the three trolls they had fought, all dead. He continued brightly: "I think we can say this was quite successful. Two dead, one stone. I wonder where the other two are?"

"Not quite so successful" said Elladan sombrely. "Linhir's dead." He was kneeling by the elf who had been hit by the troll's club. He lay where he had fallen. The club had hit the top of his head, shattering the skull. In sorrow they gathered round as the sun rose on the scene. The two dead trolls had turned to stone, either as they died or as the sun reached them, and there were now three new rocks on the hillside.

Elladan got to his feet. "It's time we went back. I'll take Linhir." He moved across to Mithrond.

"It would have been a lot worse if Legolas hadn't realised how to kill them," said Elrohir. "Well done." He paused, looking around. "Where is he?"

Aragorn looked round sharply. There was no sign of Legolas, either among those standing by Linhir, or with the elves inspecting the fallen trolls. "Where is he?" he asked, his voice sharpened by anxiety.

"He was standing by the first troll we killed. I saw him jump out of the way! It couldn't have fallen on him, could it?" Unable to believe the sudden turn of events, the three looked at each other, baffled. "Spread out. Search," ordered Elladan tersely.

"Over here!" called Raffael. He was looking by the bushes just behind them. Legolas lay motionless where the blow from the club had knocked him, crumpled limply beneath the tree. Elladan and Elrohir moved him carefully onto the grass. Aragorn bent over them. "What happened?"

"I'm not sure," said Elrohir. "It looks like the other troll got him, I don't know if it was a fist or its club."

Aragorn, remembering Linhir, whispered "Is he alive?"

Just then there was a commotion behind them. A group of elves from Imladris, lead by Elrond, had come to check on their progress. "Thank the Valar. Father! Over here!" called Elrohir. As Elrond approached, Aragorn moved aside to give him room.

Elladan had gently felt for a pulse, dreading what he might find. He gave a sigh of relief, coupled with surprise. "He's alive." 

Elrond knelt beside his sons. Legolas had a long cut running vertically from his hairline to the corner of his eye, an area of crushed and bloodied flesh on his forehead, and a darkening bruise covering half his face. There was no flicker of consciousness, and his face, always pale, was ashen. Elrond looked down at him. "Oh, elfling, what have you done this time?" he murmured softly. He ran deft, probing fingers over Legolas' head, feeling carefully for any damage to the skull. Then he gently lifted each eyelid, looking at the pupils.

"Father?" Elrond looked up at his sons, not sure which of the three had spoken.

"What happened?" he asked simply, his face strained.

Elladan and Elrohir explained what they knew, with Aragorn adding what he had seen. "Father? Will he be all right?" Elrond stood up wearily and sighed. 

"I don't know. Let's get back to Imladris."

They rode back slowly. Three of the trolls were dead, but two of their own had fallen. One was dead, and the other – no one knew yet.

Slowly, sadly, the hunting party rode back to Imladris. The euphoria they had felt at the defeat of the trolls had completely disappeared, and the mood was subdued. Aragorn rode beside Elrond, questioning him about Legolas' injury. Behind them were Elladan and Elrohir, their normal high spirits quenched.

As they rode through the archway into the courtyard at Imladris, Arwen was waiting to greet them. She looked pale and strained. Her eyes flicked over the group, some of the tension visibly leaving her as she saw Aragorn, her father, her brothers. She came down the steps and stopped by Elrond. "Father, the messengers said someone had been killed! What happened?" Then, behind him, she saw her brothers more clearly. Elladan held Legolas in front of him, carefully supporting him against his chest. Arwen's eyes widened in dismay. "Oh no - Elladan, what happened?" she whispered. Then she saw Elrohir's burden. "Linhir too?"

Aragorn swung off Duathnir and moved to her side, reaching up to help Elladan move Legolas. "I'm sorry, Linhir's dead. One of the trolls got him. But Legolas is going to be all right, I'm sure your father can do something." He sounded optimistic, wanting to reassure Arwen, but in truth was desperately worried. He had seen the concern on Elrond's face. And if the elf Lord was so uncertain, what were Legolas' chances?

Aragorn trailed behind Elladan as they made their way to Legolas' room. Arwen and Elrohir remained to deal with Linhir.

In Legolas' chamber, Elladan carefully placed him on the bed. Then he and Aragorn stood back to give their father room. Elrond again ran his long, sensitive fingers over Legolas' head, probing gently, feeling for any swelling or depression, any ridge which could indicate a fracture. At last he straightened, and gave a sigh of relief. "Well, there's no damage that I can feel. But this" - he indicated the long, jagged gash - "will need to be stitched."

Aragorn watched, fascinated, as Elrond carefully stitched along the wound, drawing the skin on either side of the gaping cut together. When he had finished, a line of fine stitches ran vertically down Legolas' forehead, but the wide gash was now only a long, narrow cut. Elrond stood back. "That should heal now, without a scar. It could have been a lot worse. He must have a very thick skull."

"I've been saying that for years." muttered Elladan, not quite under his breath. Aragorn, despite his concern, gave a short laugh, which he changed into a cough when Elrond glared at them both.

"I want one of you to stay here. I don't think he'll wake up yet, but if he does, call me."

"Yes, father" murmured Aragorn. When Elrond had gone, he gazed down at Legolas. It seemed strange to see him so pale and still, the spark of life and joy missing. The day dragged. Elladan disappeared after a while, leaving Aragorn alone. He read, paced, and sat by the bed telling Legolas how the other two trolls had been killed.

At one stage it looked like Legolas was rousing. He stirred slightly, eyes flickering, and murmured something which Aragorn did not catch. But after a while he subsided, and silence fell again. Aragorn, sitting by the window, looked up in relief as, towards evening, Elrond returned with Elrohir.

"Is there no change?" Aragorn shook his head. 

"Nothing. I thought he was going to wake up, but ..." he trailed off. "Father, is he going to be all right?"

Elrond gave them both a reassuring smile. "Don't worry, just give it time. He'll be fine." The three sat, talking softly, as outside darkness fell.

For Legolas, return to consciousness was a slow, painful business. Stray thoughts and sensory impressions flickered like fireflies, but when he tried to hold on to them, they slipped from his grasp like a handful of sand. The more he tried, the harder it was, everything seeming more and more elusive. Legolas struggled to make some sense of his confused thoughts, but the effort was too great. It hurt even to think. Eventually they faded away completely, and he sank into oblivion again. 

Some indeterminable time later he drifted toward the light again. The fleeting thoughts and feelings returned, as ephemeral as a will-o-the-wisp. With an immense effort he was able to hold on to some of the impressions, and gradually made some order out of the chaos.

He was indoors, lying on a soft bed. A breath of cool air carried scents of trees, water and damp earth to him. Imladris. There were others in the room, one very close to him. There was sharp, stabbing pain across his head, and a duller ache throughout his body. There was a quiet voice calling him. 

"Come, elfling. I know you're awake."

Elfling? Only three people ever called him that. He considered the possibilities. His father, Glorfindel, or: 

"Elrond?" He realised he had made no sound. He tried to swallow, but his mouth was dry. Cool water trickled into his mouth, and he licked it gratefully. He tried again. "Elrond?" His voice was a faint, breathy whisper.

Legolas struggled to open his eyes, but the lids felt leaden. Finally he succeeded, but his vision was blurred, and he could only see out of one eye. The other was glued shut. He felt a momentary panic, but the figure next to him – Elrond? – wiped away the encrusted blood until he could open both eyes, although his right eye would still not open fully. It felt swollen, and ached incessantly. Slowly he blinked the room into focus. It was dark outside, and he could see two figures by the windows. Elrond was standing over the bed, looking down in concern.

"Can you tell me what happened?" It was his standard question when assessing any head injury. 

Legolas frowned, and closed his eyes again, trying to remember. The slight movement sent a sharp pain across his forehead. He raised his hand to it, and felt a raw tender area, and a long gash that ran to his eye, criss-crossed by a line of stitches. He was unaware that as his silence lengthened Elrond's look of concern deepened, and across the room, Elrohir and Aragorn exchanged worried glances.

"The trolls," he said at last. "We fought them. I killed one, I think. After that…" he stopped, unable to recall anything else. He shook his head, grimacing as the movement sent a blinding pain shooting through his head. "I'm not sure." Suddenly he looked up at Elrond. "Linhir. I saw him go down. Is he all right?"

Elrond sighed. He had hoped Legolas wouldn't remember that particular detail. "No. He's dead. I think you were very lucky. How do you feel?"

"As if Durin himself had used my head for his anvil."

Across the room he could hear a smothered laugh from Aragorn, who crossed to the bed. He sat down, causing a slight jolt that sent another wave of pain and nausea through Legolas, who gave a slight gasp.

Elrond smiled. "Drink this. It should help the headache." He slipped an arm around Legolas and helped him to sit up. Taking a cup, Elrond held it to his mouth. Legolas was not about to be helped to drink like a child, so he took the cup for himself. He was appalled to see his hand shaking. He steadied the cup with his other hand and managed to drink. The sweet taste of the liquid could not disguise the bitter aftertaste of the herbs. He drained it, then said: "Did you say lucky? What happened to Linhir?"

Elrond had not wanted to go into details, but could no longer avoid it. Legolas was every bit as stubborn as his father was. "The troll hit him with its club. He was killed. His – his skull was crushed."

Aragorn, from the end of the bed, said: "You killed one of the trolls. Elrohir followed your example and got another one. The last one was petrified when the sun came up. We got them, Legolas, all three."

Legolas leaned his head back against the pillows and swallowed against a sudden vertigo. The room was spinning. Whatever was in the draught Elrond had given him, it was more than a remedy for his headache.

Grey eyes looked accusingly at Elrond as darkness splintered the edges of his vision. "What..." he began, as unconsciousness claimed him again.

""Just something to help you sleep, elfling. Just something to help you sleep." 

****

To be continued

Author's Notes: Aren't I nice? No cliffhanger (this time).

Not much action this time, but things will liven up again in the next couple of chapters. Don't forget, there's still two trolls out there somewhere!

PuterPatty: You must have had some marathon reading sessions to have caught up will all my stories so quickly! Thank you for reviewing so faithfully. I'm so glad you enjoyed the other stories as well - I love writing them! 

I try hard to get relationships between characters right - friendly, affectionate, brother/sister type (not like me and my brother, we used to fight as kids!). Aragorn is a great friend, he knows just the right thing to say, doesn't he?

Treehugger: 'Cliffie Queen' - I love it! Thanks! A couple of line in that last chapter about dangers in Mirkwood were based on comments of yours - did you spot them? And yes, Legolas is still avoiding caves - but he hid it well, didn't he?

But soon there will be a cave he just can't avoid (hint, hint! Thud goes a thundering great teaser!)

IrishElf: Hope I didn't make you wait too long. I try to update weekly (work and life permitting). Glad you like cliffhangers - there are more on the way, don't worry!

YunaDax: Yes, I though trolls would make a change. It also ties in with The Hobbit.

gemstone: Oh yes, trouble! Aragorn and Legolas just can't avoid it, can they? And there's more to come!

Analorien: Thanks for your support. Glad you like it!

JastaElf: Thank you for your praise - from writers like you and Treehugger it really means something! I'm glad you like the fight with the trolls - fight and battle scenes are areas I'm not at all sure about - I'm sure I can do better than I do. As regards Elrond and Thranduil - I intend to write that story sometime, probably next - it just seems too good an opportunity to miss! Loved the update of 'Dark Leaf', and thanks for the recommendation!

ccg: Yes, Legolas does cover himself well - Aragorn never did find out about the cave thing, did he?


	5. More Troll Hunting

****

Chapter 5 - More Troll Hunting

When Legolas awoke again it was daylight, and he was alone. The headache had receded to manageable proportions, and his vision was clearer.

"How do you feel?" Arwen stood in the doorway.

He looked at her and considered the question. "Better," he conceded. "Do you think your father will let me get up?"

"I would think so. I don't see him being able to stop you, anyway." She came into the room and looked at him carefully. He stood cautiously. Arwen hovered at his side. She did not offer to help – he would only refuse – but kept close enough to catch him if he fell. He walked to the window and leant on the sill, looking down through the trees to the river below. She gazed at Legolas assessingly. 

He was very pale, and the dark bruise only accentuated the pallor of his skin. One eye was swollen and half-closed. The jagged cut, nearly four inches long, was surrounded by a scraped, painful looking graze, only now beginning to scab over. "You look terrible," she told him bluntly.

"Thank you so much. Have you got a mirror? Let me see."

She found one, and handed it to him wordlessly. He looked at his reflection and sighed. "He calls that lucky? Oh well, I suppose it will heal. What time is it?" he changed the subject.

"About midday. I came to see if you were awake and wanted any lunch."

Legolas frowned, trying to reconcile the hours. "Midday? It must have been near dawn when we fought the trolls. Was that only this morning?"

"That was yesterday. You've been - asleep - since then." 

"I see," he said, a little horrified that he had been unaware for so long.

"You woke up for a while last night. Don't you remember?"

He thought back. There was a dim memory of Elrond, of Aragorn at the end of the bed, telling him about the trolls. "I think so. But it's a bit - hazy. Your father was there. And Aragorn. And - Elrohir?"

Arwen smiled at him. "Good. You do remember. I'll give you a few minutes to get dressed, then you can meet us downstairs."

A short time later, Legolas joined Arwen, Aragorn and the twins over the noon meal. He was keen to hear full details of what had happened to the other trolls.

"Well, I saw how you killed the first troll, so I tried the same thing. I didn't think it was going to work at first, but then it went down like a tree falling!" explained Elrohir enthusiastically. "But then the last troll saw that we'd killed his friends, and started to get _really _annoyed!"

"Yes, it grabbed him, just as the sun came up." added Elladan. "It was turned to stone. Elrohir was lucky he got away in time!"

Elrohir shivered. "Yes, that was close!"

"What do you think would have happened if you hadn't got away from the troll?" Legolas asked Elrohir curiously.

"Maybe you'd have been turned to stone as well!" exclaimed Aragorn ghoulishly.

"Or else you'd have to wait for a handy dwarf to come along with a chisel to free you," suggested Arwen.

Legolas shook his head and laughed. "I wish I'd seen it! It sounds like I missed all the fun. When are you going out after the other two?"

"There's another search party tonight. We're going south of the road this time, we haven't been there for a while, but there's been no reports of trolls anywhere for days. It's gone very quiet. I hope we'll be able to find them soon!"

The rest of the afternoon passed quietly. Elladan and Elrohir left on pursuits of their own, Elrohir saying something about visitors from Lorien. Legolas took the opportunity to replenish his arrows. He had lost most of his in the Anduin, and wanted to replace them. He collected the supplies he needed, then set to work. Aragorn watched as the arrow heads, with lethally sharp points, were fitted and bound to the shafts with thin strips of leather. Then Legolas sorted through a handful of feathers, selecting the ones he wanted for fletching. "Pass me that knife, please?"

Aragorn handed Legolas the knife he had been using for the arrow heads. "No, not that one! The fletching knife, there!" he snapped.

Aragorn changed knives, giving his friend the correct one. "Sorry."

Legolas sighed. "No, I'm sorry. There was no need for that. I'm tired." In truth, the detailed work and concentration needed were not helping a persistent headache, and his vision still blurred disconcertingly at times. It was making him uncharacteristically bad tempered. He finished the fletching, then added the final detail, a tiny golden oakleaf symbol, etched on the arrows near the fletching. He stowed the completed arrows in the quiver, and returned with it to his room. Aragorn left to get ready for the night's search.

Towards the end of the afternoon, the hunting party assembled once again in the courtyard. Aragorn was talking to Elladan and Elrohir while they waited by the horses. 

"There's only two of them left, and if they stay together we could search from now until Yule until we find them." complained Elrohir. "I don't want to be spending every night out after them. There's a girl from Lorien, a healer, who's just arrived. I want ..." he broke off, looking over Aragorn's shoulder at the steps from the house. "Oh. I wondered when he'd appear."

Aragorn and Elladan turned to follow his gaze. Elladan gave a snort of disgust. "He's mad if he thinks he's well enough to come tonight. I'm surprised father hasn't stopped him."

Legolas stood on the steps, his bow slung over his shoulder, a quiver full of newly-fletched arrows on his back. Elrond stood behind him, looking resigned.

Aragorn, Elladan and Elrohir made their way back to the house. All three started on Legolas at once, who quickly became defensive. "I'm fine, there's nothing wrong with me. I just want to get on with this. Will you all stop fussing!" His voice rose to a near shout. 

Aragorn watched the argument wryly. Legolas' stubbornness had collided head-on with the twins' steely determination. It would be interesting to see who won. After five minutes of fruitless discussion, when none of them had yielded an inch, Aragorn decided to call a halt, using more subtle methods. Moving around behind Legolas, he caught Elrohir's eye. When there was a lull in the furious flow of words, he spoke sharply behind his friend. "Legolas!"

Legolas turned quickly - too quickly. He went pale, and swayed as a wave of dizziness hit him. He glared at Aragorn, who was regarding him with what could only be described as a smirk. "Still think you're well enough to come?" the ranger asked sardonically.

"That was a low trick!" snapped Legolas.

"But necessary" said Elrond, firmly. "I trust there will be no further discussion?"

Legolas glowered at all four. "All right. I'll stay here - tonight." Without another word, he turned and went back into the house.

Aragorn realized that Elrond, Elladan and Elrohir were looking at him in admiration. "That was nicely done, Estel. Much simpler than a long drawn out argument." praised Elrond.

"But why didn't you just put your foot down?" Elladan asked his father.

"Because he would have resented it, and me. Besides, I have no authority to forbid him to do anything. This way, he can decide for himself."

~*~*~*~*~

****

Legolas watched from the windows in Elrond's library. If he could not participate in the hunt, he could at least search for references to other troll attacks. He turned as Arwen came to join him in his research.

"You wish you were with them" she said sympathetically.

Legolas simply nodded.

"I know how you feel. Sometimes Aragorn thinks he should look after me, that I need protecting."

Legolas looked at her in disbelief. He could hardly imagine any woman less in need of protection than Arwen, except possibly Taniquel. He remembered her fearless companionship when he had been injured, the deadly accuracy of her arrows when he had once taken her on a spider hunt through Lasgalen. "What do you tell him?"

"Most times I point out his error. But sometimes - sometimes I let him. He has a tendency to take responsibility for things he can't really control. He can't help it - it comes of being a ranger."

Legolas considered her words. It certainly shed a new light on Aragorn - he had not suspected this trait in his friend. And the thought of Arwen in need of protection was still mind-boggling. He could easily imagine her 'pointing out' Aragorn's error. It was very revealing that she did not do so every time.

"You love him."

Arwen nodded, almost sadly. "Yes. And I will have to make the same choice as Luthien in time. But it's no choice at all, really." She shook off her melancholic mood and changed the subject. "Anyway, what about you?"

Legolas smiled suddenly. "Ashia is due to return from Lorien some time next year. Then she's going to start training our healers in the techniques she learnt there. I had a letter from her a few months ago. She says she's learnt more from your Grandmother than she ever believed possible!"

~*~*~*~*~

Early the next morning, the hunting party trailed back to Imladris, cold, wet, miserable. It had rained all night, and once more, there had been no sign of the trolls. Thereafter, patrols continued every night, with no more success. Elrond varied the hunters out searching so none became too exhausted or despondent, and between them they covered every inch of ground surrounding Rivendell, but found no sign of the remaining trolls. There were no new caves found where they might lie hidden, and no new traces in caves they had already searched. However, at least there had been no new attacks reported.

Four nights after the fight with the three trolls at the Trollshaws, a large party, including Legolas, rode out from Rivendell. There had been a message that travellers were again braving the road between Bree and the mountains, and Elrond was taking no chances. 

Elladan and Elrohir were planning to conduct a further search of the many caves in the area, including the one Aragorn and Legolas had found. They were discussing tactics when Elrond spoke behind them.

"Legolas. I would speak with you, if I may."

Legolas slowed Pavisel until Elrond caught up with him. 

"You warned me when you arrived of the renewed evil that dwells in Dol Guldur. But you have not told me all that occurred there. I sense a shadow on you. What happened?"

Legolas hesitated, looking down at Pavisel's mane. "The mission - was not a success. Of the six who rode out, three did not return. We were returning from Dol Guldur when we were ambushed - I should have sensed it! One of the warriors, Math'rin, was killed instantly. We fought the orcs, and eventually defeated them, but Elthan had taken a grievous wound. He died before we could help him."

"I remember Math'rin when we fought together at the Last Alliance" said Elrond sadly. "He was a valiant warrior. He used to play for us, and could charm the birds from the trees with his harping! And Elthan, he came here many, many years ago to learn from our healers. I'm sorry for your losses." He paused, waiting for Legolas to continue, then: "What happened to the third of your companions?"

Legolas hesitated, his voice distant as he was forced to confront Eléntia's death again. He said slowly: "One of my warriors, Eléntia, was taken by orcs. We followed them, but they reached Dol Guldur. The Nazgûl were there. They are - truly evil." Legolas' voice dropped to a bare whisper. Then he continued: "One described in great detail what they would do to her, wanting us to take that message back to Lasgalen, so no others would approach the tower." He stopped again, seeing in his memories the tower, Eléntia chained against it, the towering figure of the Nazgûl, the chill of fear they had felt as it turned to them, and hearing once more its cold voice.

Elrond watched him closely, saying nothing. He could guess what had happened then, and the terrible burden Legolas carried. 

Eventually Legolas continued. "I had no choice. Rescue was impossible, there were hundreds of orcs and trolls. Once they took her inside the tower - we could not let that happen, could not abandon her to that fate." His voice dropped again, so even Elrond, riding beside him, could barely hear. "I had no choice."

"Do you regret what you did?"

Legolas looked at the Elf lord, a little surprised by the question. "No. I regret that it was necessary, would give anything to have been able to rescue her. But I do not regret what I did. It is not easy to live with, but to have done nothing, to have left her there - _that _would be impossible to live with." He realised that for the first time, he did not regret what he had done. He looked at Elrond. "Thank you" he said simply.

Elrond gave him a sudden smile. "Away with you, elfling. Go and see what my sons are up to."

Legolas rode away from the main party, over the hill to the rock outcrop he had seen with Aragorn. As he drew near the cave, he could see no sign of the twins or Aragorn. They must have gone inside, as the three horses waited patiently outside. He was still several hundred yards away when he saw a dark shape moving slowly past the rocks towards the cave. He watched in disbelief for a long second, too long, then called a sharp warning. 

"Aragorn! Elladan, Elrohir! Get out of there, the troll is coming back!"

The creature turned at his shout, and regarded him with an idle curiosity. Then it resumed its path and lumbered towards the cave entrance. Legolas turned to look for Elrond, but there was no one else in sight. He slid off Pavisel. "Go and find Elrond, now. Bring him here!" Then he turned and ran towards the cave. The troll had already reached the entrance and gone in. For a long moment, nothing happened, then he heard a wild shout, a furious bellow, and a startled cry.

As Legolas reached the cleft there was another yell from the troll, a crash, then the thunderous roar of collapsing rock. A shockwave of dust and fetid air blasted out of the cave mouth, and he reeled back, coughing. Then there was a groaning, creaking sound, another rumble, and a further cloud of dust. Gradually silence fell, and the cloud dispersed.

The cave had collapsed, and the entrance was completely blocked.

****

TBC

Author's Notes: Well, I warned you there would be a cliff hanger! Stay tuned to find out what's happened!

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Responses to reviewers:

Alisha: Is this posting soon enough?

Kellen: Glad you like this. As you can see, that head injury can cause problems!

ccg: Yes, poor Linhir. But at least we didn't know him well. I won't be making that mistake again!

gemstone: Well, the after effects weren't too bad. And you'll have to wait and see which of the remaining three need treating by Elrond!

Raider 314: Well, there's this, and at least one more battle to come!

Treehugger: I wasn't really sure what would have happened to Elrohir, so thought I'd let them all discuss it. And as I said before, at least we didn't know Linhir. Not like certain other characters, who I really regret killing off! And Arwen indulges in a little more horse-stealing later on .... ;) Like the cliff hanger? Hope I didn't disappoint you!

IrishElf: If you check out my bio, there's two more stories up - it's not too late to read and review! And yes, please feel free to send me your story - I'd be glad to help!

PuterPatty: Look! I haven't killed anyone this chapter! Loved your comment about the decreasing elf population! You can see that Legolas' head injury still caused a few problems, but nothing to worry about.

Analorien: You like Arwen? Good! Hope you like this chapter, and there's more of her in the next one too.


	6. Rescue

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Author's Notes: I must have watched too much 'Skippy' as a child - I have this image, after Legolas told Pavisel to 'go and find Elrond, now' of Elrond saying to Pavisel: "What's that? The boys are trapped in the old troll cave?" I think I'm showing my age!

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Chapter 6 - Rescue

Legolas flung himself at the cave entrance, shouting desperately.

"Aragorn! Elladan, Elrohir! Can you hear me?!" There was no sound from within the cave. He listened, desperate for some sign, and looked up and down the hillside for anyone who could get help. There was no one. As he stared at the cave blankly, wondering what he could do, he realised that the entrance was not totally blocked. Two large boulders had fallen across it, but there was a very narrow gap beside one. Without giving himself time to think about it, he slid into the gap, twisting to fit through.

Inside, it was pitch black, so dark he could see nothing. He tried hard to recall the layout of the cave as Aragorn had described it to him. With one hand outstretched to feel the wall, Legolas took a cautious step forward, then another, then swore sharply as his head hit the low roof. This was no good. He moved back to the slice of grey light that marked the gap, and squeezed back out into the night. He took a deep breath of the cool night air, then turned to Elladan's horse. He found a tinderbox in the bags, and a tallow candle, and quickly lit it, then re-entered the cave. The wavering flame cast a fitful light before him, sending flickering shadows across the walls. The tunnel was partially blocked, but now he was able to see he could pick his way over the rubble. Just ahead he could see a dark shape - the troll. It lay where the tunnel widened out, and part of the cave roof had collapsed onto it. It looked dead. He hoped so. 

Above the troll, a slab of rock had fallen from the roof. It was balanced on a precarious support, and looked ready to collapse at any minute. Legolas edged under it warily - if it fell, it would kill him without doubt.

He called again. "Elrohir? Elladan? Aragorn?" A faint moan answered him. He stepped carefully past the troll and found a large cave, just as Aragorn had said. He turned to look round the cave, too quickly, and the flame shuddered and nearly went out. He slowed, then carefully dripped molten wax onto a ledge of rock, fixing the candle into place. As his eyes adjusted to the faint light he could see that the roof at one side of the cave had fallen in.

Immediately in front of him he could see Aragorn, on his hands and knees. He seemed dazed, unaware of what had happened. Legolas dropped to one knee beside him. "Aragorn? Are you all right? Can you walk?" He touched the man on one shoulder, but he seemed disorientated, and took a wild swing at Legolas. The sudden movement unbalanced Aragorn, and he nearly fell. Legolas lowered his voice. "Aragorn, it's me. Can you hear me? I'm going to see what's happened to Elladan and Elrohir."

He could see them both, just past Aragorn: Elladan nearest, Elrohir against the far side of the cave. He moved carefully past Aragorn, then knelt next to Elladan. His eyes were flickering, and he was moving his head slightly. Legolas touched his face gently with his hands. "Elladan? Elladan!" He paused, then continued, using the old name. "Ellahir! Wake up, talk to me Ellahir!" 

There was a soft sigh. "Go away."

Legolas grinned. "That's better. Wake up now, I need you to help me with Aragorn." He turned then to Aragorn again. "Aragorn, can you stand? I want you to get Elladan out of here."

Aragorn groaned, but got to his feet, swaying slightly. "Elladan? Is he all right? What about Elrohir?"

"I'll see to Elrohir. Take Elladan outside, get help."

Aragorn helped pull Elladan to his feet, then turned to stare hazily at Legolas. "What are you doing here? I thought you were with Elrond."

"I followed you down. Come on, I need you to help Elladan, remember?"

With a mixture of pleas and threats, he was able to persuade the pair to move to the exit, stumbling and supporting each other. They were both clearly dazed and only partially aware of what had happened, or he would never have got them out while Elrohir remained.

Once they were safely gone, he turned to Elrohir. He lay face down, motionless, partly buried in dust and rubble. His hair was coated with a grey dust. As Legolas gently touched the back of his head, he felt a sticky smear of blood. Legolas slid his hand beneath Elrohir's neck to check for a pulse. To his relief, he found it, beating strongly. As he moved enough of the stone and rock to free Elrohir, he was sharply reminded of his own experiences. Eventually he was able to pull Elrohir free. The movement raised a further cloud of dust, adding to that already choking the air. The smell, the taste of the dust, the stinging in his eyes and throat all revived the memories even more vividly, but there was no time to dwell on them.

As he bent to check on Elrohir the flame began to gutter and flicker, sending shadows leaping wildly across the walls. He turned to look at the candle as the flame shimmered and finally went out, leaving him in total darkness again. He located Elrohir again by touch and lifted him carefully. He was still unconscious, but at least he was alive. The darkness now was absolute, pierced by the sound of settling earth, and laced with the evocative smell of damp and crumbling rock.

Legolas had heard a steady trickle of dust and debris, together with a constant drip of water for some time, and now there was a creaking groan as more of the cave collapsed somewhere behind him. He moved cautiously forward, trying to feel ahead with one hand outstretched, while still supporting Elrohir. After what seemed like an eternity he located the wall, and began to grope along it in the direction of the cave mouth. He had forgotten the troll, lying near the tunnel, and stumbled over it, nearly dropping Elrohir. At the same time there was a thunderous roar as more of the cave collapsed, this time showering him with stones and mud. He got to his feet again, heart pounding, breathing harshly.

Behind him, there was a different sound, the rumble of a semi-conscious troll - it was obviously not as dead as Legolas had hoped. He could hear it lumbering to its feet. Glancing behind, he could just see it peering all around, looking for the three elves that had trespassed in its cave. There was a low growl, then a crash. The troll had stumbled, falling against the single remaining roof support. There was a tremendous crash as the rock slab above fell, bringing down the rest of the cave roof. Faintly, in the noise, there was a soft grunt as the troll was buried beneath tons of rock.

A trickle of stones was falling all around Legolas, and once or twice there was a heavier impact. Something brushed against his back and landed heavily just behind him - big enough to have inflicted serious damage if it had struck him. Another rock hit his shoulder, numbing his arm, and Legolas stumbled to his knees. Grimly he picked himself up. Finally, ahead of him, he could see a grainy grey light that marked the exit, and could hear voices calling. The light was momentarily blocked, and he was plunged back into darkness as someone edged through the narrow gap.

"Legolas! Elrohir! Are you there?"

He gave a sigh of relief. "We're here. Get out, quickly, because I don't know how long it will be before the rest of the roof falls in." Suddenly someone was beside him, taking Elrohir, and guiding him out of the cave. There seemed an interminable pause while Elrohir was manoeuvred past the rocks blocking the cave, when the light was obscured again, then they were out, breathing clean air in the grey light of dawn.

Legolas sank to his knees in the damp grass. He was filthy, streaked with debris, mud and blood, hair matted and dulled with dust. Elrohir, lying beside him, looked no better. But they were alive. Legolas looked about him, absently rubbing his shoulder and flexing his hand. Aragorn and Elladan were being forcibly restrained as both fought to get back to the cave. Finally it registered on them that Legolas and Elrohir were out, and only then did Raffael and Tirilth release them. Elladan ran to his brother's side, but was waved aside by Elrond. "Let me see to him. What happened?"

Elladan was still dazed, but reasonably coherent. "We went to have a look at the cave Aragorn found with Legolas. We went inside, but one of the trolls came back and found us." He paused, clearly trying to recall what happened after that. "It started waving its club around, and hit one of the roof supports. Then - then I think the whole cave started falling down."

Between them, Elrohir was already starting to stir, and before long his eyes opened. He blinked up at his father and brother, both leaning over him. The fact that Elrohir had regained consciousness fairly quickly had already relieved some of Elrond's concerns. It was further alleviated when Elrohir groaned and muttered "Oh no - what happened to that troll?"

Legolas looked across at him. "Don't worry - it's dead. The roof caved in on it."

Elrohir blinked at him owlishly. "Leg'as? I thought I heard your voice. Where did you come from? You weren't in the cave with us."

"You're lucky I came to see what you were up to. You need looking after!"

Elrond watched Legolas as he spoke, his gaze going then to his sons. The three were battered and bruised, but already arguing about who was at fault. He turned to Legolas. "They are indeed lucky you came after them. I owe you - I owe you a debt of gratitude I can never repay." he said quietly.

Legolas was spared from having to answer. There was a clatter of hooves as Arwen rode up. She had been working with one of the other search parties away to the south, but had obviously heard what had occurred. Elrohir was sitting up by now, elbows propped on his knees as he held a pad of soft cloth to the back of his head. He looked up as Arwen approached. "Oh no, not again!" he murmured.

As she dropped to the ground, Legolas took her horse. He looked at the beast curiously. It did not look like the one she usually rode.

Once she had seen for herself that Elladan, Elrohir and Aragorn were more or less in one piece, her concern gave way to anger. "What were you thinking of, going in there without a lookout? You know how dangerous these trolls can be! Have you forgotten what happened last time?"

Aragorn tried to defuse her anger. "I did have a lookout last time, Legolas stayed outside. He was going to again, but got talking to your father. None of us wanted to wait, so we all went in without him. Perhaps we should have waited ...."

"Yes, you should! At least Legolas has some sense!"

Legolas did not want to be dragged into the argument, so looked for a way to interrupt, and change the subject.

"Arwen, isn't this Asfaloth? Where's your horse?"

She looked slightly guilty. "I borrowed him. He's faster than mine. I'm sure Glorfindel won't mind!"

"What do you mean?" asked her father. "Glorfindel does know you've got his horse, I suppose?"

She flushed. "Well - he wasn't there to ask. He was off searching one of the other caves - with a lookout!" she added pointedly.

Elrond sighed. "I told you before, ask first! I know it's not the first time you've taken Asfaloth without asking Glorfindel." *And it probably won't be the last, either* he added to himself. 

The search parties were now split into two groups. One continued the search for the remaining trolls, while the other was delegated to escort Elladan, Elrohir and Aragorn back to Imladris. 

"Arwen, take Asfaloth back at once. Apologise to Glorfindel!"

"Yes, father."

Elladan and Elrohir watched with unashamed delight. It was extremely rare that their sister bore the brunt of Elrond's anger - it was usually them, even when she had been the instigator of some prank.

Elrond now turned his attention to his sons and Legolas. "I want you to head straight home. None of you are fit for any more adventures today!" He paused then, glaring at them all in resignation. "No, on second thoughts I will accompany you myself. I don't trust any of you!"

When they returned to Imladris it was full day. As Legolas entered the hall, Erestor approached him. 

"My Lord, a messenger has arrived from your father. He is in the Hall of Fire."

Slightly apprehensive, hoping nothing was wrong, Legolas went into the dimly lit hall. At the sound of his soft footsteps the messenger got to his feet and bowed.

"My Lord! I bring greetings from your Lord Father."

"Nifael! It's good to see someone from home. Did you have a safe journey?"

Nifael nodded. He was a new recruit to the messenger service, young, very much in awe of the army commander and his prince. He looked a little shocked as Legolas went to one of the tables and poured him a cup of wine.

"Here. You must have been riding all night."

"Thank you, my Lord."

Legolas ignored the honorific. He had tried before to persuade Nifael to call him by name, but to no avail. The only way would seem to be a direct order, which rather defeated the object.

"Do you have a message for me?"

"Yes, my Lord. I was instructed by Lord Tirnan to inform you and Lord Elrond that the crossing at the ford has been repaired. It was washed away in floods a few weeks ago."

"Yes, I had noticed." Legolas commented dryly.

"Oh. Well, Lord Tirnan sent a patrol to repair the stones. He asked me to inform you, my Lord." Nifael stopped, and bowed again. 

Legolas sighed. "Thank you. Is there any further news?"

"Yes, my Lord. Your Lord Father asks when you will return to Lasgalen."

"Well, I've not finished here yet. You can tell him .... tell him I'll be back when the last of the trolls is dead."

Nifael nodded. "Of course, my Lord. I'll leave at once."

"No, you won't! Stay here. Rest. The message will keep until tomorrow." 

"Yes, my Lord. Thank you." He gave a final bow.

Legolas watched Nifael leave, and shook his head. He hated excessive formality, but at times fought a losing battle. There was clearly no hope for Nifael. But at least he would deliver the message safely, and it would not be long before Legolas himself returned home.

****

To Be Continued .............

Author's Notes: Well, again I'm being kind. No cliff hanger. Four trolls down, one to go. What will happen when they encounter the last one? I hope that Legolas will feel a little differently about caves now. He did his heroic bit, and rescued everyone, so shouldn't be quite so negative.

Yesterday was a good day. Updates on THREE of my favourite stories! The final chapter of 'When the Ring Went South' by Thundera Tiger, a brilliant cliffhanger from Cassia in 'The Seventh Stone', and a new chapter (very sad) from Littlefish for 'Hostage of Fate' ! If any of you haven't read these stories, go and do it now! Highly recommended! Treehugger, JastaElf, Ithilien, where are your updates?

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Responses to reviewers:

arabella thorne: I'm glad you liked the fight scene, I'm not so confident on those. I agree with you, Arwen and Legolas seem made for one another - but they obviously don't think so.

Kellen: I'm glad you like Arwen. She doesn't appear in many stories, but I think she must have far more going for her than Tolkien showed us, for Aragorn to fall in love with her. 

PuterPatty: Well, Legolas finally got back into the action, but probably wished he hadn't! Elrond is always described as 'very wise' in the books - so a few words of advice from him would help. I'm glad so many people liked the way Aragorn put a stop to the argument in his own way. As for Ashia, you'll have to wait and see.

Lady Winter: Glad you like the story. As Legolas is prince in a different realm, Elrond wouldn't be able to command him. (But I think Legolas would still listen to his advice.) As for Arwen, she knows if she marries Aragorn there is much she must renounce - her immortality, for one. No wonder she's sad!

gemstone: Aragorn has his own special way of dealing with people, not always how you would expect. At least none of the three was seriously hurt!

Treehugger: But you LIKE cliffhangers! As I said before, I wasn't sure what would have happened to Elrohir, but there were two possibilities I thought of. There's a bit in 'Mission to Dol Guldur' where the Nazgul implies that Legolas has monogrammed arrows - so he made them!

I'm glad you like Aragorn's personality. Thundera Tiger calls it 'Ranger Responsibility Syndrome' - I know _exactly _what she means!

ccg: Well, Legolas _wasn't_ inside the cave - not at first, anyway .... ; ) It's interesting how many people have picked up on the bit about Aragorn dissuading Legolas, also about Elrond and Legolas. As for Ashia - there'll be more about her in a future story. Wait till then!


	7. The Last Troll

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Chapter 7 - The Last Troll

Legolas rejoined Elrond, Elladan and Aragorn after Nifael left. Elrohir had been banished to his room to rest, and Glorfindel's party had not yet returned.

Aragorn looked at him quizzically. "Is there trouble at home?"

"No, no important messages. Just Nifael, 'my Lording' me all the time!"

Elladan laughed. "I know how you feel. There was a servant here, she looked terrified every time she had to speak to me!"

"Well, you can understand that" Aragorn commented slyly.

Elladan ignored him. "I think Elrohir did something in the end - I'm not sure what, he probably tried to flirt with her. She was never the same after that!"

Legolas was intrigued. "What happened to her?" he asked.

"In the end she asked to work in the kitchens. She married one of the cooks eventually."

After waiting for Arwen and Glorfindel to arrive back at Imladris - they had no further news - Legolas returned to his room for a few hours rest. Glorfindel had been looking rather thin-lipped, but at least he was riding his own horse.

At the noon meal, Nifael appeared again, once more eager to leave to deliver his message. 

"At least stay and eat. If you leave after lunch there'll still be several hours of daylight left. I'll make sure your horse is ready, and the supplies." Legolas persuaded him.

"Please, my Lord, you should not ..."

"Don't argue!"

"No, my Lord. I'm sorry, my Lord."

"Nifael, please don't .... oh, never mind!"

In addition to the message he had given Nifael, Legolas wrote a letter to his father to be delivered. He described his journey to Rivendell, crossing the ford, and the progress of the troll hunt. He gave a detailed account - as far as he could recall events - of the attack by the three trolls. He wanted to reassure his father - it was entirely possible that Thranduil had sensed something of what had happened. If so, he would have been concerned.

Nifael departed soon after the meal. He had carefully put the letter in his pack, repeated the verbal message to be sure he had it correctly memorised, and finally rode out of the courtyard. In truth, Legolas was not sorry to see him go. The youngster's constant deference and eagerness to please was exhausting. 

That evening the hunting parties rode out from Imladris yet again. With only one troll left, the hunt would either be over quickly, or could take another year. Legolas knew he could not be away indefinitely, so hoped it would not be too long. He did not want to have to leave before the final battle. The night was wet, a thin drizzling rain soaking everything. Clouds veiled the stars, and a cold wind blew through the valley.

Elladan and Aragorn, and even Elrohir, had successfully argued that they were fit to join the hunting party. Elrond, however, insisted on accompanying them 'to keep an eye on them.'

Arwen too had decided to join the group - Legolas realized that she did not trust them to stay out of trouble any more than Elrond did. About an hour's travel from Imladris they came to an area Legolas had not seen before. The area they had decided to watch was a small dell, overhung by a high cliff and surrounded by trees. It was a gloomy place, where the sun rarely penetrated, but a narrow, twisting trail led through the trees and across the dell, and in the soft mud were clear tracks of a troll. 

Watching alone all night could be deathly dull, so Legolas sat with Arwen against a rock below the cliff. The horses were safe beneath the trees that grew thickly all around. The night was cold, and they sat huddled in their cloaks, shielded from the wind by the sheltering rocks.

Legolas spent a pleasant few hours with Arwen, reminiscing about adventures around Imladris and in Mirkwood, and giving her a colourful account of the Battle of Five Armies.

"I don't believe it!" exclaimed Arwen. "Eagles? And bears? I suppose you'll tell me next that the wolves were on your side?"

"Wargs, not wolves. They're worse. And no, they weren't on our side" said Legolas seriously. "And there was only one bear - but it was very big! I'm sure I've got a few fangs from the wargs somewhere, souvenirs ....." He pretended to grope in a pocket on his tunic for a warg fang, causing Arwen to giggle like an elfling. Suddenly he stopped, and drew from his pocket a silver handled knife, enamelled with a design of fish and waterfalls. "Damn. I forgot I had this."

"That's Elladan's."

"Yes, I borrowed it yesterday. I'd better give it back."

Legolas pushed himself away from the rock he had been leaning against, and moved across the dell to Elladan's position. As he reached the twins, somewhere behind him he heard a low rumble. His skin prickled. Where had he heard that before?

Elladan took the knife, looking at him curiously. "What was that?" he mouthed.

"I'm not sure" Legolas whispered back, shaking his head. Then his eyes widened. He remembered where he had heard the sound before - the previous night, in the cave, the troll. He turned slowly.

The rock he and Arwen had been leaning against was moving. It got to its feet stiffly, gradually awakening.

Arwen was moving slowly, stealthily, backing away from the troll, her eyes never leaving it. She was close to its feet, and at this range it could not see her. Suddenly Alauda, her horse, sensing the troll, panicked and reared. It slipped on the soft mud, crashing against Arwen and knocking her to the ground. She fell heavily, and did not move for a moment. The troll moved forward a step, missing Arwen by inches.

Legolas was frozen in horror, but he heard Elrohir gasp, and across the dell, Elrond took a step forward. There was an anguished cry to his left. 

"Arwen! No!" In seconds Aragorn was at her side. Arwen was already regaining her feet, and together they moved warily away from the troll, watching it carefully. Both had bows ready, and arrows drawn, but were too near to the troll to shoot. This close, the angle was impossibly steep. As they drew further away, the troll became aware of the small figures by its feet. It growled threateningly. 

"Don't just growl at me, you brute, roar!" muttered Aragorn.

Suddenly Arwen stepped forward, shouting at it, waving her bow. The troll peered down at her and growled again. Then it opened its mouth and gave a tremendous roar. Arwen and Aragorn both fired at it, arrows lodging at the back of its throat. Simultaneously Aragorn sensed an arrow pass close over his head. He looked up, and saw it strike the troll as well. He turned to see Legolas across the clearing. He tipped his bow towards Aragorn in salute.

They watched breathlessly as the troll gave a strangled cry and collapsed, thudding to the ground at Arwen's feet.

For an instant there was silence, then the dell resounded to yells of elation, cheers and cries of triumph.

Aragorn turned to Arwen and gave her a resounding hug. "We did it! We did it!" He was ecstatic.

They looked around, laughing in delight as Elladan and Elrohir bore down on them, with Legolas in tow. Elrohir pushed Legolas against Arwen in mock disgust. "You're imbeciles! The pair of you! You were sitting against that rock for most of the night! Didn't either of you _notice _it was a troll?" 

Arwen and Legolas exchanged a sheepish glance. "Well ..." she began.

Aragorn interrupted, puzzled. "How could it be sitting there in full view? Why wasn't it turned to stone?"

No one had an answer for that at first. Then Elrond looked up at the cliff that the troll had been resting beneath.

"It's always dark and gloomy here. This side of the dell never gets any sunlight. And here below this overhang it would be dark enough for the troll to be safe. It obviously slept during the day until nightfall."

Elladan was incredulous. "Do you mean it's been here the whole time? It can't have! Elrohir and I have ridden along this trail several times. We would have gone straight past it!"

Legolas could not resist the temptation. With a perfect intonation of Elrohir's voice he asked: "Didn't either of you _notice _it was a troll?"

The glare Elladan gave him was worth all the dangers they had encountered over the past few days.

They returned to Imladris, euphoric, calling out the good news to the other search parties as they passed them. At day break, as the last few hunting groups returned, they started a full scale celebration, with wine, food and song, sending out messengers to Bree and the villages around Imladris.

Legolas was impressed. Elrond could throw an impromptu celebration every bit as well as Thranduil could, and the Silvan elves of his father's kingdom were noted for their love of song and wine.

Some time later, Elrohir drew Legolas to one side. "Do you still have time to ride out to see the other stone trolls? I said I'd show you one day. Elladan and Aragorn can come as well."

Legolas considered the proposition. "We've finished here. A few more days won't matter. I'll see your trolls, then go back to Lasgalen. It's time I went home then, anyway."

"Good. We'll leave tomorrow!"

****

To be continued

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Author's Notes: In case you didn't know, 'Skippy' was an Australian children's TV programme about a kangaroo. It was shown here in the UK in the 60s/70s. I told you I was showing my age!

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Responses to reviewers:

HaloGatomon - It's always good to hear from a new reviewer. Don't worry, this story isn't quite as finished as you might think - there's a few more chapters to come.

RainyDayz - Another new reviewer! Thanks! I hope you liked the other chapters as much.

arabella thorne - and now the last troll is accounted for - but there's more adventures to come ...

Treehugger - I'm glad you liked this chapter. I don't think Elrond was very pleased about the horse. It was actually a comment in one of your reviews that inspired that scene - so thank you! This story isn't quite as close to the end as you may think, and there will be more Nifael to come - I'm glad you like him.

gemstone - I'm glad you liked Arwen's scene, and Nifael. I feel sure Arwen is just as spirited as her brothers - and we know she goes in for horse stealing!

Irishelf - I don't mind questions instead of reviews. To post a story, you have to be registered. Yes, it does cost money (I can't remember how much, but not too much.) You have options for how long you want your membership to be. Click on 'register', read the rules, then click on 'agree'. Then fill in the registration form and click on 'register' again. Follow the instructions. Good luck! If you don't have a credit/debit card account, you will have to be VERY NICE to your parents, and get them to pay for you!!

JastaElf - Yes, you know exactly what I mean by 'Skippy'! I remember 'Lassie', as well. I'm glad you like the characters, and their interaction. I mostly write book-verse, but can't resist the occasional reference to the movie! You do archery? Does my description of Legolas making his arrows sound at all real? It was entirely made up, so I hope it sounded genuine.

PuerPatty - I'm being good. No cliffhangers (again) and no injuries this time. Another person who liked Arwen's horse! As I've said before, I love to refer to the movie sometimes, even if some readers won't understand the significance of Asfaloth.

If I write about Ashia, it will probably be a free-standing story, linked, but not essential to the others.


	8. Stone Trolls and Goblins

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Chapter 8 -Stone Trolls and Goblins

Early the next morning, Legolas rode out from Imladris accompanied by Aragorn and the twins. The part of the Trollshaws where Bilbo's trolls had had their lair was about two day's journey from Rivendell. They followed the road west from the Ford of Bruinen, where it lay in a deep cutting under steep banks. Gradually the path rose, following a line of hills between the valleys.

In the early evening they moved off the road into the woods to the south. Elladan and Elrohir often stopped at this place when journeying, and a small spring welled up beneath a low cliff that sheltered the clearing from the prevailing wind. Flat stones had been placed around the spring to keep the surrounding ground dry and mud free.

There was a small store of fire wood stacked below the cliff for times when rain made it impossible to collect dry wood. Today, however, the weather was mild, and they quickly gathered enough wood to keep a small fire going throughout the night.

They drew lots to keep watch. Elladan and Elrohir had quickly learnt not to keep Aragorn from the rota - he refused to accept that mortals needed more sleep than elves - and Legolas was beginning to agree with their conclusion. It was far less trouble this way.

For a while the four sat by the fire while the night deepened. Elladan was recounting the dwarves' visit to Imladris after they had met the trolls. 

"And Estel was absolutely fascinated by them. He spent hours and hours talking to them about the Lonely Mountain, dragons, and the quest. I know he'd have tried to go with them when they left, he was determined, but for one thing ....."

"What was that?" asked Legolas.

Aragorn took up the tale. "Well - I'd heard them talking about a treasure hoard, and a secret map. The night before they left Elrond was in his library, talking to Thorin. I decided to climb up a tree outside the windows to listen, I wanted to find out more. I was only ten years old, I thought I could find the treasure before they did! The trouble is, I was too far away to be able to hear what they were saying."

"So he crawled along a branch to get closer, but it broke, and he fell and broke his arm!" Elrohir finished. 

Legolas gave a snort of laughter, but then sobered. "That must have hurt."

"It wasn't fair." complained Elladan. "Father was furious with him about it, but decided he'd suffered enough. So he blamed us for not teaching him to climb properly!"

"No good ever came to anyone who eavesdrops." said Legolas sagely.

Elladan stared at him disbelievingly. "Are those your own words of wisdom, or someone else's?"

"Mithrandir told me that."

Elrohir grinned, and gave him a knowing look. "Why? What had you done?"

"Well - I was hiding on the balcony outside my father's study once. He and Mithrandir were talking about the Last Alliance, about my grandfather - I wanted to hear too. Of course, Mithrandir caught me!"

"What happened?"

Legolas grimaced. "My father told me that I'd let him down, that it was a disgraceful and dishonourable thing to do, unworthy of the lowest servant, and especially a prince." He could still recall the burning sense of shame he had felt at the end of his father's lecture. "But it worked - it was something I never did again! I remember Mithrandir said it would punish me properly for listening."

They continued reminiscing about childhood misdemeanours long into the night, including some involving Arwen that astounded Aragorn. Elladan recalled an escapade that had something to do with climbing across the rooftops of Imladris that not even Elrohir had known about. For the elves it was all a very long time ago, but it was all much more recent for Aragorn. His foster brothers knew nearly all his guilty secrets, but for his sake they refrained from describing some of the more embarrassing episodes. 

The fire was burning low, so after stoking it for the night, they settled to sleep. Elladan was taking the first watch, and as he fell asleep Legolas could see him silhouetted against the faint firelight.

When they awoke the next morning there had been a frost in the night. The grass was crisped white, and ice had formed where the spring splashed onto the stones. Their breath hung in the still air. The fire had gone out, but there was enough heat in the embers for Aragorn to stand over them, warming his hands.

"It's all right for you," he grumbled. "You never feel the cold!"

It took Legolas little time to rekindle the fire enough to heat a kettle of water. He made hot drinks for all four and handed them round. Although he did not particularly feel the cold himself, it was still comforting.

Riding swiftly, they reached the place where Bilbo and the dwarves had encountered the trolls. There were three of them, one bending down, the other two staring at it. Legolas looked at them for a moment. "They look different to the ones we fought," he said at last. "Are there different sorts of trolls? Different species?"

"There could be," agreed Elrohir. "You're right, these are smaller than the ones we saw. I think these are wood trolls, ours were stone trolls. There are cave trolls as well. They live in darkness all their lives, so they grow to huge sizes, far larger than the other breeds. They must be far harder to kill, because they have no need to fear the sun."

Legolas exchanged a glance with Aragorn. The five trolls they had battled against were bad enough. "Well, I hope never come face to face with a cave troll," he decided. "It would be bad enough being in a cave, never mind the troll!"

They returned to Imladris the next day. After a final meal with Elrond and the others, Legolas left on a sharp, frosty morning. Smoke from the fires rose straight into the air and layers of mist hung in the valley. 

"If this weather holds, it will only take about six days to return home. With Pavisel, if necessary, I could do it in five."

"What's the rush?"

"No rush. There's no need to press on. Six days will be soon enough. It will be good to be home."

~*~*~*~*~

Two days after he had left Rivendell, Nifael rode higher and higher along the High Pass over the Misty Mountains. The trail was wide here, and unclear, littered with scree and loose rock. To the left the track broadened and flattened, levelling off onto more solid ground.

Turning in that direction he missed the narrower path that climbed still higher, and over the pass.

It was some time before Nifael slowed his horse and looked around. His route did not look familiar, and he was unsure of where he was. He paused uncertainly, looking back at the path he had been following, and then ahead. Above him a cliff rose on one side, pock marked with caves. On the other side the trail fell away steeply, strewn with debris from the cliff above. Beyond that there was a sheer drop to the plains below. Nifael halted, wondering if the trail continued around the corner of rock that blocked his view. 

He was unaware that he was being watched. 

In one of the caves above him two orcs watched curiously. Their lair was safely off the main track, where there was less danger of discovery. They were unused to seeing travellers here.

The elf below them was alone, hesitant, easy prey. It was the perfect place for an ambush.

One of the orcs stealthily reached for a bow. It sighted carefully, and fired, letting out a grunt of satisfaction as the arrow struck home. It fired again, but the elf had already fallen, and the horse was disappearing back up the trail. 

Nifael had no warning of the attack. Sudden agony flared as the arrow hit his back, sending him toppling forward off Morlai. Dazed, he was only partially aware as he slid and rolled down the slope. He tried to grasp at the stones, but they were loose, and fell with him. He could not prevent a gasp of pain as his fall jarred the arrow still protruding from his back. Suddenly he realised that beyond the slope the ground fell away into nothingness. In desperation he twisted, unable to prevent his fall, but angling his body, trying to reach a spur of cliff jutting out below and to his left.

He hit the rock with sickening force, driving the arrow deeper. His head jerked back against the stone, and he was plunged into darkness.

From the shelter of their cave, the orcs watched, then scrambled down to the track. Their attack had not been as successful as they had hoped. The horse was long gone, and they had not yet captured the elf. They stood on the path, gazing down at the motionless figure far below. 

"Well? You goin' down there, Fangar? If we get it back here, we could have some fun with it!"

"Looks dangerous. You go. Why did you let the horse escape, anyways?"

"Me? You should have shot it first!"

"But then that damned elf would prob'ly have shot us!"

"Are we goin' down to get it, or not?"

The larger of the two orcs looked down the slope doubtfully. "Looks like it's prob'ly dead already. No point getting it, they're no fun dead. Shame."

They turned away, and then spotted the pouch Nifael had been carrying. Tearing it open, they investigated the contents. First they found a rolled sheet of parchment. Unfurling it, they peered uncomprehendingly at the flowing Elvish script.

"What's this?" said Fangar at last.

"Dunno. It's no use to us." Gordur crumpled the sheet in one huge fist, and threw it aside. 

There were some strips of dried meat, which they sniffed suspiciously, and then ate. There were also several flat cakes, wrapped in leaves. Gordur sniffed again, broke off a section, and tried it. With an exclamation of disgust, he spat the mouthful out, and dropped the cakes in his hand to the ground, treading them into the dirt. 

"Filthy bloody elves! We can't eat this!"

There was nothing else of interest in the pouch, so they dropped it back on the trail again, and shambled off back to the cave. Far at the back, out of sight of prying eyes and snooping elf patrols, they curled up to sleep.

Outside, night began to darken. A cold wind sprang up, and an icy rain began to fall. Slowly the rain soaked into Nifael's tunic, mingling with the blood that still seeped slowly from the wound on his back.

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To be continued

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Author's Notes: As promised, here are the replies. 

Soledad: always great to hear from a new reviewer. I'm glad you like the trolls and descriptions - something I work hard on. I hope you liked the other stories too!

Treehugger: regarding the troll, how many ways can a troll sneak up on them? And don't forget, Aragorn is only about twenty here - he's entitled to be young and enthusiastic!

arabella thorne: thanks for the comments. I think a troll asleep would be very difficult to tell apart from a rock!

PuterPatty: I'm glad you like Nifael. Don't worry, this isn't gratuitous Nifael torture. There is a vital purpose in this. I decided Arwen should have her turn at the trolls -look at how she dealt with the Nazgûl!

koala: The weapons may have some effect, just not much. Trolls have very tough skin, don't forget. I didn't notice Frodo stopping the troll in the movie with Sting, after all.

ccg: I'm not quite sure why Elrohir is such a flirt in my stories - don't know where that came from! But he doesn't mean any harm.

Earl Grey: Thanks for the review, I'm glad you like the stories. Another Skippy fan!

And to everybody: I'm really glad you like this chapter so far. For everyone who's accusing me of killing Nifael, I haven't!! (yet) *points to last paragraph* - dead elves don't bleed!

See you for the next chapter, 'The Message' soon!


	9. The Message

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Chapter 9 - The Message 

Some time, a long time later, Nifael slowly regained consciousness. Basic survival training instinctively took over, and he lay still, eyes closed, listening intently. As far as he could tell, he was alone. There did not seem to be anything, anyone near him. Cautiously he opened his eyes. It was dark, and it was raining heavily. He was wedged half on his side, half on his back, between the ground and an outcrop of rock. There was a fiery pain in his back, and every breath hurt.

Slowly he pulled himself upright, leaning against the rock for support. Gingerly he touched the back of his head, ignoring the pounding ache. There was a large bump there, and his hair was stiff with dried blood, but at least it seemed to have stopped bleeding. His arm was gashed by one of the sharp splinters of rock that littered the slope, a long deep cut that still bled sluggishly. 

Finally he brushed his hand across his back. The shaft of the arrow had snapped off, leaving a stub about two inches long still sticking out. Steeling himself, he grasped the end and tried to pull. The pain was nauseating. He fell to his knees again, breathing deeply, determined not to pass out. It was no good, the arrow would not budge, it was too deeply embedded.

As the pain receded a little, he lifted his head and looked around. A short was away was a sheer drop, much too close for comfort. Above him the slope rose steeply towards the path he had fallen from.

It was clear he could not stay here. With a sigh of futility, he salvaged the arrows which had fallen from his quiver, then began the ascent to the path. On hands and knees he crawled slowly up the slope, stopping frequently to catch his breath. 

Once finally at the top, he moved across the path and halted under the cliff. Here he was partially concealed from the caves above. He leaned against the rock wall, exhausted already.

After a while he pushed himself upright, and began to make his way down the track. At the side of the path he glimpsed something familiar, the message pouch he had been carrying. It was clear orcs had been through it. The letter was gone. The only thing left was a few wafers of lembas, nothing else. It was very little, but it was better than nothing. Moving on again, he stopped frequently, both to gather his strength, and to look ahead along the path to the next place where he would stop. There was a darker patch of shadow against the night, and he peered at it uncertainly. The shadow gave a soft snort, and he moved closer. 

"Morlai?"

The black horse waited patiently for him to approach. It took three attempts before Nifael could haul himself onto Morlai's back, but he finally succeeded. Leaning forward, he gave a sigh of relief. Maybe, just maybe, he would make it back. He drank, sparingly, from the skins of water Morlai carried, and found a dry cloak in one of the packs. He wrapped it closely around himself, easing the chill which seeped into his bones from the wet clothes.

He rested against the horse's neck, the position easing his pain a little. "Let's go home" he whispered. 

In a surprisingly short time they came to the place where the trail branched off. It was obvious, now, which was the correct route. To the right the track descended back down to Imladris. To his left, it climbed steeply, leading over the pass. It took only a momentary decision. Rivendell was nearer, downhill, famed for its healers. But Lasgalen was his home, and he was honour bound to deliver his message. He turned Morlai to the left. "Let's go home" he repeated.

The journey back was slow and painstaking. A day to cross the pass and drop down to the plains, two days to reach the ford, newly repaired. Crossing was easy, the water level safely below the flat clapper stones of the bridge. Morlai moved at a slow, steady gait, his stride smooth so it would not jar Nifael. He rode draped across Morlai's back, hands clasped beneath his neck. He dozed, only semi-conscious, as the horse plodded steadily across the grasslands between the Anduin and the forest. Once or twice Nifael found himself on the ground, with no recollection of how he had got there. The first time he somehow managed to pull himself onto Morlai, but the second time he had to stumble alongside the horse to a boulder on the plain and use that to mount. Towards the end of the fourth day he drew near to one of the villages of men that had grown up under the eaves of the forest.

Relations between men and elves could best be described as an uneasy truce. Neither entirely trusted the other, but there was not outright fear and hate. Thranduil suspected the men of poaching deer along the edges of the forest. The villagers feared Mirkwood, the spiders, the darkness, the ghosts many were convinced haunted the area. A few suspected that the elves encouraged these perils to keep intruders out. 

Legolas had been trying forge bonds between the different inhabitants of Mirkwood, but with only a little success. Very few of the villagers were prepared to put aside their traditional mistrust, and many of the elders were fiercely independent. Added to that, most of the elves could see no good reason to concern themselves with the men, who had nothing to offer them.

Even through the haze of his confused thoughts, Nifael decided it would be better to avoid the village. But as he skirted the area, he came across a man reaping the last of a crop of vegetables before the winter's frosts. 

The man straightened, and looked at Nifael curiously. "Greetings, stranger. It's been a while since we saw one of Thranduil's people here." Then his gaze sharpened, as he took in Nifael's drawn face and the bloodstains. "You're hurt! Come with me, my village is near, we can help you."

"No, I cannot stop, I have to return."

"You'll not make it anywhere like that. It's not far. My wife is a healer, I'll take you to her."

Nifael shook his head, wincing at the movement. "No. I thank you, but I must go on." He was already past the man, and rode on with Morlai, leaving the villager behind.

The man watched Nifael sway and almost fall off his horse. Shaking his head, he turned and hurried back to the village, shouting for his wife as he approached.

"Mara, I need some of your medicines. I just met an elf, he's badly injured, but wouldn't let me bring him here."

"An elf? Injured, is he? So where is he now?"

"Gone. He said he had to return. To Lasgalen, I suppose, he was wearing Thranduil's colours. But he'll never make it through the forest like that."

"So you ..."

"Mara, the elves helped us a lot when we had the floods two years back. And long, long ago, when I was a child, there was a sickness. My father said many died. The elves gave us medicines, and helped to sow the crops when there was no one well enough to work. My father said they saved the village."

She nodded. "What are you going to do?" she asked, already knowing the answer.

"I'm going after him. If he won't let us help, at least I can make sure he gets there in one piece. It's the only way I can repay what they've done for us."

He snatched the pack Mara thrust at him, a loaf, some died meat, and dried fruit and nuts. He found his hunting knife, a short bow and some arrows. When Mara's attention was distracted, he added several more arrows. He feared he would need them if the spiders sensed easy prey.

Hastily saddling Inda, a shaggy brown pony, he rode after the elf. Inda was no match for the elf's magnificent, midnight black stallion- but they had been travelling very slowly. He caught up with them just before they entered the forest.

As Nifael realised he had a companion, he turned to the man. After staring at him in puzzlement for a while, he said slowly: "Did you not hear me? I cannot go with you. I carry a message which I must deliver safely."

"I know you will not stop. But I will travel with you, if I may. My name is Darian."

Nifael's protest was halted by a harsh coughing spasm. He bent forward, gasping for breath. When he could speak again, he nodded. "All right. Thank you, Darian."

They rode together through the darkening forest as night approached. Nifael was adamant he could not stop, and Darian did not wish to linger in the forest any longer than he had to. Deciding not to halt unless absolutely necessary, they continued to Lasgalen.

At last the two reached the outer boundaries of Lasgalen. Although Darian could not hear it, an alert rang throughout the forest at the sight of a stranger, and a wounded elf. They were trailed by sentinels until they passed the boundary trees. At last they came to an open stretch of grass that lay in front of a bridge. Beyond that lay the halls of the wood elves. 

They were expected. 

Alfiel waited silently, flanked by Tirana and several archers.

Darian stopped at the sight of the silent welcoming party. He swallowed, no longer sure if he had done the right thing in escorting the injured elf. His eyes were fixed on the tall, dark haired elf in the centre, unarmed, but quite clearly the leader of this group. The elf stepped forward towards Darian, who tried to move Inda backwards. Then, quite suddenly, he smiled. Darian's uncertainty vanished. 

"Thank you, my friend, for helping our brother. Please join us, take food and rest before you return." He waved a hand, and one of the elves came forward to greet Darian.

"Come with me. I will see that your pony is looked after as well."

Before Darian could move, the elf he had escorted tried to dismount, and began to crumple to the ground. The others turned to help him.

~*~*~*~*~

Nifael fell off his horse in a haze of pain and confusion. Alfiel caught him, and gently lowered him to the ground. He turned and called for Tirana.

Throughout his journey, Nifael knew he had been given a message to deliver from Legolas. It had been the only thing that kept him going. Somehow it seemed imperative that he delivered that message - he had promised. Struggling to breathe, he knew he had to pass it on to Alfiel.

His hand groped for the letter Legolas had written to Thranduil, but then remembered he had lost it in the attack. No matter. He drew a breath and repeated the message. 

"I've a message from Prince Legolas. He said he'll be home when the last of the trolls is dead." 

His voice was so faint, Alfiel had to lean close to make it out. He could barely hear the breathy whisper, but the urgency behind it was unmistakeable.

"Message .... Prince Legolas ......... is dead."

Alfiel sat back on his heels in shock, his face white. "Nifael? Tell me again. I - I didn't hear that right. What happened?"

"Trolls ..." Nifael's strength gave out then, and he let the darkness claim him, satisfied that he had finally delivered Legolas' message safely.

Alfiel looked across at Tirana, unable to believe what he had just heard, but he could see his own shock mirrored in her eyes. "What did he just say?" he asked her, needing reassurance. There was none she could give.

She gave a jerky nod. "I know. He said ... he said ..." her voice broke. "He said Legolas is dead."

Alfiel bowed his head, staring down at Nifael. _What had happened_? They would have to wait for Nifael to awaken before they could get the full story. He raised his eyes to Tirana. "Look after him. Try to find out what he can tell you."

"I'll try." She ran her hands over him, assessing the gash on his arm, the lump on his head, the arrow wound. "He's badly injured. I think he'll recover, but it will be a while before he tells us anything else." She looked up at Alfiel as he got to his feet. "Where are you going?"

"There's something I have to do" he said, dreading it. "I've got to go and find Thranduil."

~*~*~*~

Darian had been unable to hear any of the message, but its effect was amazing. The elves appeared shocked and bewildered. They looked at each other in disbelief, and several were weeping openly. No wonder the mysterious messenger's errand was so important, if it was so devastating. He had clearly been forgotten, so Darian turned away, ready to take Inda back home.

Before he had gone more than a few steps, he was stopped.

"You must think us very discourteous. We offered you food and hospitality. We have not forgotten what you did."

"What was the message?" asked Darian curiously. "It seemed like - bad news."

The elf nodded, his expression bleak. "It was. The worst. Our ..." he stopped, swallowed, then continued: "Our prince is dead."

"Oh" said Darian. It seemed dreadfully inadequate. "I'm sorry" he added lamely.

"Come. We can give you shelter, replenish your supplies, and tomorrow escort you home. You will not have to ride through the forest alone."

Darian, who had been rather dreading the journey home - there was no denying it, he was afraid of the spiders, and the darkness - followed the elf, aware of the sense of gloom that was settling over the forest.

~*~*~*~

Alfiel found the King in the Great Hall, hearing petitions from traders from Lake Town. Tionel was overseeing the supplicants. 

Alfiel spoke to the steward softly. "Get rid of them, all of them. Now!"

Tionel looked startled. "But ..."

"Just do it!" There was an unaccustomed harshness in Alfiel's voice.

As the next man stepped forward, Tionel stopped him. "This audience is now closed. If you still wish to be heard, please attend the next audience in three day's time."

The men muttered resentfully, but left without question.

Alfiel and Tionel turned to see Thranduil watching them both. "While I don't object to cutting that short, why was it necessary?"

Alfiel approached him hesitantly. "It was my doing, your Majesty. I - have news."

Thranduil regarded him impatiently. "Well?"

"Nifael has just returned from Imladris. He carried a message." Alfiel hesitated again, wishing he was _somewhere_, anywhere else - even back at Dol Guldur. "He said - he said your son, Prince Legolas, is dead." He bowed his head, unable to look at Thranduil. "I'm sorry, Sire" he finished, his voice a mere whisper.

There was a moment of total silence. Thranduil uttered just one, hoarse word. "How?"

Alfiel shook his head. "We don't know yet. Nifael was injured, Tirana is with him now. But - he said something about trolls. That's all we know."

Thranduil spoke just once more. "Leave me."

"But ..."

"Go!"

Exchanging a glance, Alfiel and Tionel left, followed by two servants who had been standing, rigid, in the shadows.

As the door closed behind him, Alfiel was bombarded with questions. 

"What happened?"

"He's dead?"

"Are you sure?"

The blank, empty look in Alfiel's eyes was answer enough. They all knew that he was - had been - a close friend of the prince. Tionel repeated his original question, the only one that mattered. "What happened?"

"Like I said, I don't know. Only Nifael does. He's unconscious. I don't know when he'll be able to tell us anything. He said something about trolls."

Alone in the Great Hall, Thranduil sank back into the throne. The everyday sounds of Lasgalen faded away, until the only sound he was aware of was the harsh beat of his heart. He did not doubt for a minute that Alfiel's anguished words were true. 

A vivid, waking dream of a few days ago came to him - a portent, he realised now. In it, he saw his son, battling against three mighty trolls. He saw Legolas standing alone, dwarfed as one of the creatures towered above him, firing at it, sending it crashing to the ground. He watched helplessly as another of the trolls swung its club, dealing Legolas a crushing blow, knocking him to the ground to lie motionless, lifeless, on the cold ground.

He could never recall how long he sat there, images from the dream replaying over and over again, while Alfiel's words rang repetitively in his head. There were scenes from the past, Legolas' birth, their shared grief at Telparian's death a few short years later, his son's first archery lessons and first horse, his first battle.

Slowly Thranduil became aware of himself again, and moved to the windows at the end of the hall to stare out at the trees. The news was spreading fast. He could hear whispered conversations, gasps, cries of denial, stifled sobs. An air of gloom hung over Lasgalen, and for the first time he found himself thinking of the forest by the name outsiders used. Mirkwood. It had never been more appropriate.

Sadly, feeling every one of his long years, Thranduil crossed the hall again to the heavy wooden doors. Opening them, he followed the stairways that led upwards through Lasgalen from the Great Hall to his own chambers. There were times when he passed others. Some looked away, avoiding his eyes, others stopped to try to say something. He was not really aware of any of them, and reached the privacy of his rooms uninterrupted. With a sigh of relief he shut the door. He was alone at last. Alone with his grief, alone with his memories, alone with his uncertainty over the future.

He stood by the open window, dry-eyed, looking unseeingly at the forest. It was late autumn, and the remaining leaves were a hundred shades of bronze. Legolas had loved this time of year, and the blaze of colours that slowly crept northward. The grief was like a physical pain, a burning ache that threatened to overwhelm him.

'_No one should have to bury his own son' _thought Thranduil despairingly. '_But I cannot even do that.' _It seemed so wrong that Legolas should lie so far away, and never return to his beloved Lasgalen. Soon, before winter deepened, he would arrange to go to Imladris, to see - to see his son's grave. The thought was too much to bear. Thranduil turned away from the window, bowing his head as bitter tears began to fall.

Tomorrow he would have to talk to Tionel, to Alfiel and Tirnan. Tomorrow he would have to send messages to the other Elven realms, and to Lake Town, tomorrow he would have to think about the future of Lasgalen. Tomorrow he would see Nifael, and discover the details of his message, what had happened. But not now. Tomorrow .....

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To be continued

Author's Notes:

Well, this chapter got me sniffing. I feel so sorry for Thranduil - I think he gets a very bad press on ff.net. I'm thinking of starting a support group called 'GTAB' - Give Thranduil A Break! What do you think?

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Responses to Reviewers:

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PuterPatty: You had some interesting plot ideas. But the whole point is that Legolas doesn't find Nifael - yet. But I'm glad you liked this.

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Lakergurl13: No, I haven't killed Nifael. BTW, thanks for the reviews for the other stories. I will have to put them in order.

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arabella thorne: The message was the one Legolas wrote to his father - not important in itself, but in its absence - No, the arrow wasn't poisoned. He's in enough trouble without that.

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Treehugger: You seemed so upset about Nifael I e-mailed you. Didn't want heart failure on my conscience. I'm glad you enjoyed the stories Aragorn, Legolas and the twins were telling each other. But I wish I could have been a fly on your wall! 'Not another one' - I wonder what your children thought? (Mine think I'm crazy for writing this). But that sweet, silly elf is still alive, and will have to make further appearances. I'm surprised at how much everyone likes him - including me!


	10. Homecoming

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Author's Notes: Well, this is the final chapter, but I warn you, the angst factor goes up before matters are finally resolved.

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Chapter 10 - Homecoming

Darian followed the elf to the kitchens. He was swiftly given food: new, warm bread, meat carved off the spits in the hearth, cool water drawn from the springs below Lasgalen, a flask of wine. Having lived off trail rations for the past two days, it seemed a feast. He ate swiftly, drinking the fresh water gratefully, but leaving the wine. He was unused to it, and did not wish to appear muddle-headed in front of the elves. 

"How did you come to be in Lasgalen?" asked Amdír, who had served him.

"Your messenger came through my village two days ago. I could see he was injured, and feared he would not make it through the forest. I ... could not leave him to ride on alone, so decided to go with him. Your people helped my village two years ago, when we suffered from severe flooding. It was something I could do in return. That's all."

"Your village ... Verush? Is that it?"

Darian nodded, surprised that the elf knew of it.

"Then you may remember our prince. Legolas brought one of his patrols to you to help."

Darian vividly remembered the elves who had helped save his village. They had worked alongside the villagers, drenched from the teeming rain, digging ditches to divert flood waters, filling sandbags, moving food supplies to higher ground. The one in charge had been the butt of much humour when he slipped, falling full length in the filthy water. He had sat there, dripping, hair a muddy brown, swearing like a foot soldier - in Westron. Legolas ... yes, that had been the name.

"He said Elvish didn't contain the words he needed to say" said Darian, relating the tale. 

Amdír gave a wry smile. "Yes, that sounds like Legolas."

"He was your _prince_? I had no idea. I'm truly sorry for your loss."

His companion inclined his head, acknowledging Darian's words. "Please, come with me. A room has been prepared for you. You will find us poor company tonight, but tomorrow we will arrange an escort for you. There are ... messages to take to our kindred."

~*~*~*~

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It was just over a day after Nifael's arrival that Legolas reached Lasgalen. As he approached, something seemed wrong. He frowned, trying to identify what it was. He felt a slight sense of unease, not much as yet, but there was _something_, and there did not seem to be any shadows from Dol Guldur. The forest sounds were there, birdsong and insects, the constant murmur of leaves stirring. So what was it?

He realised he had not seen or heard anyone yet. Normally there would be hunting parties out, the sound of weapons practice from the armoury, voices, shouts and laughter. There was nothing. The whole of Lasgalen seemed deserted. Where was everyone? What had happened?

There was still no sense of evil, but the stillness was unnerving. A deep sense of unease, growing to dread, crept upon Legolas as he came to the two tall trees that marked the entrance to Lasgalen, and he stopped dead, staring in shock. Usually two banners flew from tall poles, one bearing the sign of a tree, and the other the oak-leaf symbol and insignia of Lasgalen, so familiar he barely noticed them normally.

But now it was different. The banners fluttered half-way down the poles, and both had the white edge of mourning. It signified a death in the royal household. Legolas could just remember seeing the banners like this once before, when his mother had died.

Legolas stared at the banners numbly, still disbelieving. It could only mean one thing. His father was dead. But how? What had happened? He swallowed against a hard lump in his throat, and realised he was shaking. 

He dismounted from Pavisel, leaving him to graze, and slowly crossed the bridge to the doors. The sentries stared at him, startled, and one spoke, but he took no notice, did not even hear him. He headed instinctively for the Great Hall where feasts were held, and where his father sat in judgement, or to hear requests or petitions. It was now silent and deserted. Somehow the stillness, more than anything else, convinced him that his father was indeed gone. 

Thranduil's crown lay abandoned on a small table at the side of the throne. It was crafted of autumn leaves, berries, nuts and acorns, and changed with the seasons. Legolas touched it with one hand, so gently the leaves did not stir or even rustle. He closed his eyes in desperate sorrow, and clenched his hands into fists. 

"Oh, my father, what happened to you?" he murmured. "Why was I not here? If I had not gone to Imladris, if I had returned with Nifael, maybe I would have been with you when you needed me. I'm sorry. I should have been here."

Slowly Legolas sank down to sit on the steps of the throne - his now, he realised with a sudden jolt. _He_ was king of Lasgalen. It was a title he had never wanted, or even expected to inherit. His life as a warrior had made the succession uncertain at times. Although as a child he had often sat there, pretending, now that it was real, it was different. 

Strangely, it was his mother's death he now remembered. That had been so very, very long ago - he had been a child of just ten. There had been a long, dark night, full of grim faces, hurried whispers and running feet. 

He had known there was something wrong, but no-one would tell him anything. No-one had come to send him to bed. No-one even noticed him, crouched in a corner of the corridor. 

Later, much later, his father came to him. He was crying. He had explained, haltingly, that Telparian had gone to join grandfather Oropher in the Halls of Mandos - and the new baby sister had gone with her. 

It was scant consolation, now, to know that Thranduil had at last been reunited with her. With all of them.

He remembered, as well, the close bond he had had with his father, the lively discussions they had had - furious arguments, sometimes - mostly about Thranduil's isolationist policies, his mistrust of other races, what Legolas saw as his father's over protectiveness. While Legolas had finally won this final argument, there had been little movement in other areas. Thranduil could never forget his experiences in Mordor in the Last Alliance, and what he saw as Isildur's weakness and treachery .

But over recent years things had improved. The trade agreements between Lasgalen and Lake Town were now far more amicable, and there were even trade negotiations - albeit limited - with the dwarves of the Lonely Mountain. The Battle of Five Armies had changed many things. 

Legolas had been furious with his father when he found out about the imprisonment of the dwarves. Even Thranduil had reluctantly admitted that he had been wrong. After their mystifying escape, there had been intense negotiations with Bard about Thorin, and while Thranduil would not lift the siege completely, Legolas had convinced him not to strike the first blows, or start the war for gold.

When the goblins and wargs had attacked so suddenly, everything had changed. Legolas and his father had been fighting desperately, side by side, all differences with the dwarves forgotten. At the end, Thorin had fallen, but Thranduil had made his peace with the dwarf, and returned Orcrist to him before he died.

There were other memories, too, of rides together beneath the beeches of Lasgalen, of laughter, shared moments, the time when Alfiel, Tirnan and Tionel had managed to get both Legolas and Thranduil drunk on the Dorwinion wine - much to the mirth of all present.

But that was all finished now, no more. Now all that was left were the memories.

~*~*~*~

Tionel came in at the far end of the hall by the windows. He carried a large glass bowl, painted with scenes of the Battle of Five Armies, a gift from the people of Lake Town. Thranduil was depicted on it, and Legolas, together with the dwarves, Bard, and the great eagles. Tionel did not immediately notice the still figure, sitting with head bowed on the steps. When the image registered itself on his mind, he stared, his face ashen. The glass bowl slipped from nerveless fingers and smashed into a thousand rainbow coloured shards, glinting in the sunlight.

Legolas turned sharply at the crash. He had been so lost in thought he had not heard Tionel enter. He stood, blinking away tears. 

"Tionel. Where is everyone? What - what happened?"

Tionel stood staring at him for so long Legolas wondered if he had spoken aloud. Then, very hesitantly, the steward answered. 

"My Lord?" He sounded puzzled.

"I just rode in." Legolas explained. "Didn't you get my message? I ... saw the banners outside." He paused before he could continue. "I know my father is dead, but will you _please _tell me what happened!" His grief was beginning to be replaced by exasperation and anger.

Tionel was still staring at him, dumbfounded. Then he shook himself, as if coming out of a daze. His usual commonsense began to re-assert itself. "You sent a message?"

"Yes, with Nifael." Legolas replied. "Didn't he deliver it? I'll have his ears for this! Tionel, will you please just answer me!"

"Legolas, Nifael was attacked by orcs on the road here. He wasn't very coherent when he arrived. I think his message was - misunderstood."

"He was attacked? Is he all right? What do you mean, the message was misunderstood? And what has it got to do with my father?"

Tionel concentrated on the most important thing. "There is nothing wrong with your father, other than a broken heart. The message we received said you were dead - Legolas, Lasgalen is in mourning for _you_, not your father!"

Legolas sank back down onto the steps, trying to understand the chain of events. One simple fact shone clear, like a beacon. His father was alive. That was all that mattered. The relief hit him like a blow. 

"Thank the Valar" he whispered softly. Then the secondary fact hit him, almost as hard. "Wait a minute, he thinks I'm dead? Tionel, I must go to him. Where is he?"

Legolas ran swiftly up the stairs, two at a time, as he made his way to his father's rooms. He wondered how his straightforward message could have been so misunderstood, with such devastating consequences.

At the door to his father's room, he paused, uncharacteristically hesitant. What, in the name of all the Valar, could he say? _'Hello, I'm back, by the way, I'm not dead.' _Legolas shook his head in frustration. The succession of shocks was clearly affecting his mind. The words did not matter.

He opened the door and slipped into the room. There was a table just inside the door, bearing two trays. One held vegetables and meat - venison, cooked in a rich sauce. It was cold and congealed. An unopened flask of wine stood on the tray. A second tray held bread and fruit, also untouched.

Legolas crossed the room to where his father stood, staring out of the windows at the tops of the tallest trees in the forest. Thranduil turned slowly at the soft sound of footsteps behind him. 

"Tionel, I don't ...." He broke off, staring in unbelieving hope.

"Father" said Legolas in the same instant. Father and son gazed at one another, and swiftly closed the short gap between them.

In the end, there was no need for words at all.

~*~*~*~

Later, Legolas went to the infirmary to see Nifael. A message had come from Tirana that he had regained consciousness, and was utterly mortified at the consequences of his misheard message.

Nifael sat bolt upright as he saw Legolas approaching. "My Lord! I'm sorry my Lord, it's all my fault. I took the wrong turning, and was attacked by goblins. I lost your letter, and when I got to Lasgalen ...."

"When he got here, your fool of a second didn't hear what he was saying." Alfiel finished from behind him. "Legolas, I'm sorry. I didn't hear all of Nifael's message. The part I did hear ..... I should have made certain. I'm sorry."

"It's past now. It's all right. Neither of you did anything wrong, it was just - unfortunate." *_And _that _must be the understatement of all time_* Legolas thought.

Nifael described how he had got lost, and the orc attack: "I should have been more careful. I lost the letter, and couldn't even deliver your message properly. I'm sorry, my Lord."

"Nifael, stop it. I told you, you did nothing wrong. You acted in the highest traditions of the messenger service, you are a credit to them. Despite your injuries, you delivered your message safely. You did well."

Nifael glowed at the praise. "Thank you, my Lord!"

"However, there is one more thing I have to say to you. I want you to listen carefully." Legolas sounded deadly serious now, and Nifael's smile faded. He looked apprehensive. 

"Stop saying 'my Lord' all the time. I have a name. Please use it." 

Nifael's smile had returned, and Alfiel was trying not to laugh.

"Yes, my - Legolas. I'll try."

Legolas turned to the healer. "Tirana! There's a feast tonight. Will he be well enough to come?"

Tirana looked at Nifael gravely. "No, he won't - but I'll not try to stop him! You can go, but be careful. No dancing!"

"Your father's ordered a celebration, then?" asked Alfiel.

"He didn't need to. From what I saw as I came past the kitchens, it was organising itself!"

~*~*~*~

News of Legolas' return had spread even faster than Nifael's original message, fuelled by Tionel, and the guards at the entrance who had seen Legolas. Its progress could be followed by the sound of shouts, joyous laughter, and cries of elation. As night fell, lamps were lit, hanging in the trees, floating on the water, until the whole of Lasgalen seemed ablaze with light. 

The feast was memorable. There was meat, huge haunches of venison spit-roasted over open fires, freshly baked breads, vegetables grown in the palace gardens, and wine - even the Dorwinion, that Thranduil normally kept for himself. 

The laughter, music and song echoed around Lasgalen, penetrating deep into the forest, as the celebrations lasted far into the night.

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The End

Responses to Reviewers: 

gemstone: I certainly intended this chapter to be emotional, but I'm not sure about funny. Not this time. Yes, poor Thranduil. This wasn't an easy time for him.

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PuterPatty: Hilarious? It's not meant to be! This is meant to be an angsty chapter. (I must be slipping ....) Poor Nifael, he's so serious, but its really not his fault. The elves helping the villagers is mostly due to Legolas' influence, the others are still rather suspicious of outsiders. I hope you liked the reunion scene.

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Treehugger: I love the way you write your reviews, I can see your reactions to each part of the story so clearly. It's the next best thing to being there when someone reads it. It's a tremendous help as to which parts work best - and which don't. I wasn't too sure about including Darian, but really couldn't see how Nifael could make it through the forest on his own with all those spiders. I'm glad people like him. He's certainly brave. And poor Thranduil (can I copyright that?) - I know I said give him a break, but I certainly put him through some hard times!

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Jocelyn: Great to hear from you again. You're not the only one who does angst! You were actually closest to the truth in this chapter - Legolas does indeed just show up at the door. I love your new story, it's even better than 'Nudge' (though that didn't make me cry) - and thanks for the credit.

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arabella thorne: I'm glad you liked it, even though things are difficult for Thranduil and Nifael. At last the truth is known.

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Larus: A new reviewer! Thanks! I'm glad you liked the twist. No more twins this story, but they will be along in another.

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YunaDax: Another new reviewer! Thank you for your support, I like your sentiments! Do I qualify for the BMTL brigade after this chapter? There'll be plenty of peril in the next stories.

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Legilmalith (IrishElf): Congratulations on registering. Like the new name. I must confess I've never been to Ireland - where are you from? I'm glad you're enjoying this story and liked the chapter.

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And to everyone else: Thanks for reading, even if you are a lurker! Every now and again a new reviewer signs in, so I know there's others out there. A new story will be along soon!


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